


Like We're Living in a Fairytale

by demesh



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Crack, I like to think I'm being moderate but who am I kidding, It Makes Sense in Context, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sassy Neil Josten, Slow Burn, Snow White with the Red Hair AU, let's see if you can guess who's who by the hair, so sassy, there are herbs instead, you don't really need to know anything about the anime to read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 88,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25807945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demesh/pseuds/demesh
Summary: Neil is a herbalist, content to live out a peaceful life in his tiny herbal shop. but when Riko Moriyama, crown prince of Tanbarun, decides to take claim on him because of his unique red hair, Neil is forced to flee the kingdom.Turns out all he did was run from the arms of one prince into another's, in the form of an angry blond midget - and Neil really couldn't be more done with fate.A Snow-White With The Red Hair AU complete with the crack and the pining, where two idiots fall in love but keep getting in trouble instead of kissing (until they understand they could multitask).
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 339
Kudos: 399





	1. Chapter 1

Neil looked around the plants and herbs of the woods, eyes scouring the ground and the trees. He was walking leisurely; laced boots avoiding obstacles out of habit, sleeves rolled to his mid-forearms, satchel hanging from his shoulder against his body. Today was a good day — the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the flowers were blossoming. An all around peaceful time to exist in.

A smile came onto his face when he found what he was looking for; a white, pin-prickly flower, the roots of which could be used as painkillers after steaming and drying. He crouched down before it and carefully pulled it out of the ground along with its roots, and, just as gingerly, put it in his satchel.

He made his way back out of the woods, avoiding all the same rocks and fallen logs that he’d grown to know like another part of himself. A rabbit hopped by him, and Neil looked after it briefly before continuing on his way. Songbirds were chirping their morning hymn overhead, hidden somewhere between the high branches. Coming out of the woods, Neil came to a halt on top of the hill, and overlooked the kingdom of Tanbarun.

He took in the view for a few moments, breathing in the familiar air. From up here, he could see the royal castle, in all its architectural glory; the sea sparkled in the sun from down south, and he could even see his shop’s rooftop from here, albeit just barely.

Adjusting the satchel’s sling against his shoulder, Neil composed himself, and took off down the hill.

***  
  


_Meanwhile, Inside Tanbarun’s Royal Castle_

“Mirror, mirror on the wall!” exclaimed Prince Riko, gesturing theatrically with his arms, “who’s the fairest of them all?”

“Prince Riko,” said the guard standing behind him, his face full of hollow regret as to the decisions he’s made to lead him to this point in his life. Riko’s expression flattened as he stilled in his theatrical posture, arm stretched forward.

“What, Jean?”

“That’s not a mirror. It’s an informant from town, the one you requested to see.”

Riko scowled, straightening. “If he came to tell me what he’s seen, he might as well just be a mirror.”

“That’s not how mirrors work.” There was a brief silence between the three of them — including the informant, who was kneeling at the bottom of the three wide, low steps with a confused face. Jean sighed from his position. “Please refrain from telling too many jokes, Prince Riko.”

“Ahem!” Riko cleared his throat, snapping his head toward the startled informant. “Don’t just stand there, then! Tell me your information.”

“Uh,” blinked the informant, “you want to know who’s the most beautiful person in this kingdom, right? Well, what about… _him_?”

Riko squinted at the informant. “Him?”

Birds flapped by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows from outside, croaking in unison.

“Yes,” said the informant. “A young man born with the most exceptional red hair — as red as an apple, and so rare that there’s not another alike it in the entire kingdom.”

“Huh,” said Riko. “What’s this young man’s name, you say?”

“Neil Josten,” said the informant. “Your Highness.”

“Neil Josten,” repeated Riko, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Huh.”

***

_Meanwhile Meanwhile, Inside a Humble Tanbarunian Herbal Shop_

“Thank you, young man,” said the old man, dropping a few coins on the counter and shoving the package of medicine into his bag.

“Don’t forget to take it three times a day,” Neil said, picking up the coins and dropping them into his pocket.

“Yeah, yeah,” said the man kindly. “See you later, Neil.”

“I hope you feel better soon,” replied Neil. To the lady sitting by the window, he said, “thank you for waiting, Mrs. Murray. Your medicine is almost ready.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Mrs. Murray as Neil walked around the counter, hand hovering over the shelf behind him in search of the right herb to add to her medicine mix. “It’s a pleasure waiting when I can rest my eyes on your beautiful red hair, my dear.”

Neil tugged self-consciously at his red ponytail, which was tied at the base of his skull with a plain blue ribbon. Pushing a stray strand behind his ear, he turned around with the jar of crushed herbs in his hand, smiling faintly at the lady. “Thank you. I got hold of some really good herbal medicine that could help with your headaches, as well, so please take them with you.”

The lady grinned wistfully. “Tanbarun needs more herbalists like yourself. Your parents must be proud.”

Neil froze, jar still in hand, but with a blink it went away.

He smiled thinly at the lady again and mixed the powder into the almost-ready medicine. When he was done, he packaged it, and handed it to her along with a small pouch of powdered painkillers. The lady handed him a handful of coins, which he pocketed, and left the shop.

Neil turned around to put the jar back on the shelf, when the bell over the shop’s door tinkled. He halted, and shot a look over his shoulder at the newcomer.

A tall, dark-haired man around his age stood at the threshold, holding the door open with an outstretched arm. He was dressed in royal attire, a sword sheathed at his hip and a dark mantle thrown over his shoulders.

Neil walked around the counter and stopped in front of him, looking up. The man was a good few inches taller than him, and trying to look him in the eye made Neil fear he’d pull a muscle in his neck.

“Neil Josten,” said the man. “Prince Riko has taken a liking to you, and he requests that you will formally present yourself at the castle tomorrow morning.”

“Kevin,” Neil said, “why are you talking like you don’t know me? We’ve been friends since I was ten.”

“First of all, you were eleven,” Kevin said indignantly, “and second, I’m here on business.”

“And that explains it how, exactly?” Neil stared blandly after Kevin as that walked right by him into the shop, posture all high and mighty, his mantle swooshing at Neil’s face. “Sure, Kevin, why don’t you come right in.”

Kevin flapped onto the chair that’s been earlier occupied by Mrs. Murray. “Riko won’t let it go. He demands that you come to the castle tomorrow.”

“What does he want with me, anyway?” Neil said, coming to lean against the counter. He grabbed an apple from a nearby basket and bit into it.

“He wants you to be his concubine.”

Neil spit out the apple bite, spluttering. “His _what_ now?”

“Concubine, mistress, bitch, however you’d like to call it,” Kevin sighed. “He won’t shut up about it.”

“Fucking _why_?”

“Your hair.”

Neil blinked. “My hair. My _hair_?”

“Yes, your hair,” Kevin snapped. “Your very unique, long red hair, which is very much one of a kind.”

“I think our crown prince should consider seeing a therapist before he’s made to rule the kingdom,” Neil mumbled, shoulders slumping. “This is absurd.”

Kevin stood up, brushing invisible dust from his clothes. “It’s Riko. What did you expect? You still have to show up at the castle tomorrow.”

“Like hell I do,” said Neil. “He can go dye Jean’s hair red if it turns him on.”

“Neil.”

“I’ll consider this,” Neil said, and Kevin’s face lit up. “After my soul leaves my body and I’m condemned to eternal damnation in hell. No, wait,” he interrupted himself, “I think even then I’d rather burn in hell for all of eternity."

“Come on, Neil,” Kevin said. “It’ll be bad on his image if you refuse him.”

Neil couldn’t help his snicker. “Believe me, it’s not gonna make it any worse than it already is.”

Kevin rubbed a hand over his face, holding his brow. “Just show up, okay?”

“Sure, Kevin,” Neil said when that turned to leave. “Sure.”

He waited ten seconds after Kevin left, and then stalked to the adjacent room to grab his duffle bag. He shoved as much herbs and medicines as he could fit into it, along with a change of clothes and some still-edible scraps of food he’d had lying around.

After his duffle bag was all ready, he finished mixing the remaining medicine orders, packaged them and lined them on the counter with names scribbled on each of them. This would have to do.

His satchel strapped across his body, Neil pulled the duffle bag under one shoulder. He grabbed the hood of his plain blue mantle to pull over his head — but when he did, his hand caught hold of his hair.

His very unique, long red hair, which apparently was enough to have the kingdom’s idiot prince fall head over heels for him.

Neil stood still for a moment, hand still holding his hair, when he made a decision. He pulled his switchblade out of his pocket, grabbed his hair over the ribbon tying it together, and put the knife to the hair.

Taking a deep breath, he cut it off.

When he left, hood pulled over his head, he left his ponytail resting on his counter, still tied together with the plain blue ribbon.

 _Prince Riko can go choke on it,_ he thought.

***

By the time the sun has set, Neil has reached Tanbarun’s border.

How did he know it was the border? Simple: the big, abandoned mansion that belonged to no one really, and was the source of all sorts of freaky stories that, in his childhood, have made him venture in.

When he was little, long before he’d ever left Tanbarun for the first time, he’s never managed to make the other kids come inside with him. They were scared of crossing the boarder, they’d said. They didn’t want to go into another kingdom, they’d claimed. At first, Neil hadn’t understood; but after a while he saw they were simply scared of the fairytales told about the place — the bedtime stories no one has ever bothered tell him before bed.

The last time he’s been here was long, long ago.

As he climbed over the fence surrounding the mansion, he hoped that all the entrances he’d memorised were still available. He tried a first floor, small window that used to be broken, and found that indeed, no one has bothered fixing it in the last nine years. Had he been any taller or bulkier, he might’ve not been able to wriggle through it; but as his genes have never gotten the memo of puberty, he managed to pull himself inside, and found himself in a dark, dusty room that, once upon a time, might’ve been a kitchen.

He silently ventured into the mansion’s front lobby, scouring the space just to make sure there was no one there. When he was certain he was all alone, he made his way to one of the dozen bedrooms in the place in hopes of finding a mattress.

 _Jackpot_ , he thought when he walked into the nearest room. Finding his way in the darkness, he lit a lantern attached to the wall, and saw the massive, wooden bed that was occupying half the room’s space. The mattress was awfully dusty and old, undoubtedly unsanitary — which made sense, since no one’s been living here in a couple dozen years. The bed frames were cracked and, when Neil touched them, flaked. Could they even support his weight?

 _Not that it mattered all that much_ , he thought. He would be gone before sunrise.

After pushing the duffle bag under the bed, where it would be easy to grab yet hidden from a newcomer’s sight, Neil put out the lantern’s candle. He didn’t want anyone seeing light in the window of this supposedly empty mansion, and he _really_ didn’t want the place to set fire in his sleep.

He lied on the bed on his back, fully clothed and eyes drooping shut. As he was trying to fall asleep, his mind begun spiralling; he was once again on the run, and even though his life didn’t seem to be directly threatened as of now, he didn’t want to be caught.

It was just that he’s gotten too used to freedom to be willing to throw it away again for nothing.

But before he could go too far speculating, his body’s old habits kicked in and washed away the day’s concerns. Before he knew it, he was gone into unconsciousness.

Neil woke up to the sound of a lock breaking.

He was immediately alert, dust puffing around him as he sat up straight on the mattress. It wasn’t coming from this room, or any of those adjacent; by the quality of the sound and its direction, he was almost completely sure it was coming from the main entrance.

They’ve found him.

Neil grabbed his duffle bag and made his way to the door, only now realizing sunlight was washing in from the window, revealing the ugly wallpaper and flaking doorknob. _Fuck_. He’s slept in.

Staying completely silent, steps swallowing into the ground like second nature, he walked toward the lobby, sticking to the walls. As it has in the room, light streamed into the lobby through the various windows, cracks and openings in the walls; the stones were old and fractured, the grand mural on the floor grated off from time. The most notable thing about the place, though, was that it was completely vacant.

Except for three figures.

Neil froze in his tracks, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. They haven’t noticed him yet.

They were dressed in royal attire; expensive fabrics and long mantles, swords visibly sheathed at their hips. The girl had a short, multicoloured haircut, and there was a tall, lean man with dark skin and curly hair, who was blabbering with way too much cheer.

The most eye-catching of the three, though, was also the shortest — Neil thought he might even be shorter than him, which was truly a feat to perceive. He was blond and bulky, and had the blankest, clearest features Neil’s ever seen.

For a heartbeat, their eyes interlocked.

By the next heartbeat, Neil was sprinting off back into the hallway and up a staircase, skipping two steps at a time. The window he’d come in from was on the other side of the lobby, and figuring out the old locks on any of the rooms’ windows would waste too much time; and so he headed for the one window upstairs he remembered to have also been broken and had a massive tree right by it.

And just as his luck would have it, he found that _this_ window _had_ been fixed, and that the tree had been chopped down.

“For real?” he muttered under his breath, checking the other windows. None yielding, Neil heard footsteps coming up the stairs; growing frantic, he jammed his elbow against one window, and stumbled back as it shuttered.

A glance back showed him the heads of the girl and the tall man appearing from the staircase, but he didn’t waste his breath wondering where the other one was; instead, he took three steps back, then jumped right through the broken window.

The ground met him fast, and he instinctively rolled, not missing but indeed ignoring the way his ankle still twisted wrong. Rising to his feet, he sprinted away from the mansion, glancing back just once to check whether he was being followed.

This brief, split-second glance was the reason he didn’t see it coming.

One moment he was running, and the next he had all the wind knocked out of him and his knees hit the ground, hard. Bewildered, he looked up at his assailant, only to see blazing hazel eyes looking back for the second time in a ridiculously short amount of time.

The blond’s expression held boredom, his fingers loosely holding the sheathed sword he had just hit Neil with. “Caught you, little rabbit.”

“Fuck you,” Neil replied, and the blond man crouched in front of him, regarding him with a long look.

“What are you doing here?”

Neil frowned. Were these not Riko’s guards, having come here to get him?

“Apartment hunting,” Neil said.

“Andrew!”

The two boys turned their heads to see the tall man running toward them, huffing and panting, while the multicoloured-haired girl followed him with ease. “Andrew, don’t kill him.”

“I didn’t touch him,” Andrew said.

“Yeah, and that’s why he’s on his knees in front of you,” the tall man said as he reached them. Neil ignored him, staggering to his feet.

“This is all just a big misunderstanding,” he said, stifling the wince that came when he tried putting his weight on his ankle. He hoped it wasn’t too bad, because if he’d just incapacitated himself for no reason… “I’m only a herbalist, I have no business with you. I’ll just go on my merry way, and you can go and… do whatever it is you’ve been doing. We can all pretend none of this happened.”

“I have a better idea,” Andrew said, stepping forward. “You’ll tell us what you’re doing here and why you were running, or I impale your smartass.”

“I have an even better idea,” Neil replied, and sprinted past him.

He didn’t get very far. His aching ankle slowed him down, and soon enough he felt the air swooshing by his ear from a thrust of the still-sheathed sword. He grabbed it on reflex, twisting his torso toward Andrew as he pulled it free from his grasp, then stumbled and fell to the ground, pulling Andrew down with him.

Andrew jumped off of him like he was made of acid, and Neil scrambled back to his feet and away from him, the sheathed sword now in his hand and pointed at the blond.

“Now, where does a herbalist learn to do something like that?” Andrew said.

“I’ll give it back if you leave me alone.”

“Take it, I don’t care.”

Neil blinked at him. “You don’t want your sword back?”

“Oh, no, I do,” Andrew said, colouring Neil officially baffled. “I just don’t like ultimatums.”

Before Neil could even understand what was going on, he was flung across the ground, the sword gone from his grasp. Andrew was now standing over him, pointing the sword at his throat, and Neil could swear he saw a taunting glint cross his eyes.

“Andrew, for fuck’s sake,” the tall man huffed. “Leave the kid alone. Holy hell is he fast, though.”

“He’s hiding something,” Andrew said. “I don’t trust him.”

“What, do you want me to confess my life story to you?” Neil retorted. “Well, you see, it all started when my unloving parents dropped me when I was but a small child, condemning me to a lifetime of —“

“Dumbassery?” suggested Andrew.

“…Misery.”

“Did they actually?” asked the tall man.

“Yeah, you know, because I always go around telling strangers things about myself,” Neil snapped, and the man raised his arms in surrender. “Now that you’ve heard my tragic story, would you be so kind as to let me go? I have things to do.”

“Like squatting in abandoned mansions?” Andrew said.

“Like running from the prince,” Neil bit out, and blanched. _Fuck_ , he thought. He didn’t mean to say that.

Andrew tilted his head to the side, the sword shifting with him. “Is it because of your hair?”

“Eh — what?”

“It’s unique,” Andrew said matter-of-factly, and Neil groaned, head pulling back.

“Not you too.”

“Oh, you’re running from the idiot prince?” asked the tall man, catching onto Andrew. “Yeah, that makes sense. He’s known for the many pretty girls who’ve ran away from his kingdom because of his unbiased lust.”

Neil’s eyes skidded between the two. “He’s done it before?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” said the man, a ponderous expression befalling his features. “Although he’s never gone after men. Is he finally bending to the blow of the wind?”

 _What did_ that _mean_?

“Ignore him,” Andrew said, pulling the sword back with the slightest bit of reluctance. “Follow me. I have something for your ankle.”

“My — hold on a second!” Neil called after him, hurrying to scramble to his feet. “What, you don’t want to kill me anymore?”

“You really shouldn’t tempt him,” the tall man told him. “I’m Nicky, by the way. What’s your name?”

Neil’s eye caught Andrew halting up ahead. “Neil. Neil Josten.”

“Well, Neil Josten,” Nicky said as Andrew resumed his walk toward the mansion, “it’s very nice to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this and thank you for reading:) Kudos and comments as always will be very very welcome, I would love to hear what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

“Give me that,” Neil snapped, snatching the small cream container, full of self-made herbal medicine, from Andrew. “This is mine. How the hell did you get it?”

“I took it from your satchel,” Andrew replied. Neil glared at him from his position on the bed, leg outstretched and slightly elevated on a dusty pillow. Andrew looked back at him from his place against the nightstand, as Nicky and Renee — that was the multicoloured-haired girl’s name — stood guard by the door.

“What are you still doing here, anyway?” Neil asked as he started applying the cream to his swollen ankle. “You don’t need to look after me.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Andrew said, face completely passive. “I need your medicine for my hand.”

Neil looked up at him bemusedly.

“You made me twist it when you took my sword,” Andrew said.

“I did?”

“Yes, with all the grace of a ten year old. Are you done with that?”

Neil opened his mouth to object, but Andrew already took the container from his hand, pulling off his glove with his teeth.

“Andrew, be careful,” Renee told him from across the room. “It could be poisoned.”

Andrew halted, looking from the container to an offended Neil.

“I’m a herbalist, I have no business making poison,” Neil said indignantly. “Much less inflicting it upon myself. Do I look stupid to you?”

“Yes,” Andrew said, and proceeded to apply the herbal cream to his wrist, right above where the black armband ended. “Do you have gauze?”

“Do I look like a medical vendor?” Neil retorted. “No, don’t answer that. Are you planning to pay for any of these supplies?”

Andrew cocked his head. “Is my pretty face not payment enough?”

“Unless I can eat it, no.”

“Do you usually eat coins?”

Neil’s cheeks heated. “I buy food with coins.”

“We can strike a deal,” Andrew said. “You give me gauze to treat the injury that you’ve caused, or I impale your smartass.”

“You’re the smartass here.”

“Maybe, but I have a sword.”

“What makes you think that I don’t?”

Andrew regarded him calmly. “I’m not sure. It could be the flailing economy in Tanbarun that wouldn’t allow a commoner like you to buy a sword, or it could be the very visible absence of one anywhere near you.”

Neil groaned, letting his head fall back against a pillow. He took a moment to breathe, then straightened and pulled a roll of gauze from his duffle bag, which was lying on the bed next to him. “Give me your hand.”

Andrew didn’t stir, and Neil looked up at him. “Andrew?”

“I can do it myself,” Andrew said, snatching the gauze from Neil. Neil rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bed-frame. It took him all of seven seconds to see that the way Andrew wrapped his wrist was extremely ineffective.

“You royal bunch don’t know how to do jack, do you,” Neil said, and Andrew glared at him. “I can bandage it for you in, like, thirty seconds. It’s half my job.”

“No,” Andrew said.

Neil sighed and let it go. He had his own ankle to take care of, after all, so when Andrew claimed to be done, he took the gauze from him and bandaged it.

Just when he finished, something thumped against the window. Four heads turned.

“What was that?” asked Nicky.

“The wind?” suggested Renee.

“A bird?” said Neil.

“Or Father Christmas,” said Andrew, to which Neil frowned.

“It’s July.”

Ignoring him, Andrew approached the window, fiddled with the lock until it broke — Neil filed that information for later — and leaned outside. He looked in both directions before dropping his eyes to the ground, then leaned further out, shortly straightening with a woven basket in hand.

“What the hell,” Neil said.

The basket was covered with a pale plaid cloth, and looked like it had been pulled right out of a fairytale, which in Neil’s book was suspicious. Andrew uncovered the basket’s contents, dropping the cloth on the floor, to reveal a bunch of pristine red apples. “Did anyone order lunch?”

Neil pulled his legs so that he was sitting on the bed, feet on the floor and facing Andrew. “That’s my ribbon.”

“This is _yours_?” Nicky said.

“Just the ribbon,” Neil said, leaning forward to inspect the basket and the blue ribbon tied to its handle. “I used it to tie my hair, before I… cut it off.” He sighed. “Riko must’ve found it, then.”

Andrew quirked an eyebrow at him. “You left him your hair?”

“I mean, he wanted it so bad,” Neil shrugged, stifling a mischievous smirk that didn’t evade his eyes. “So I thought, he might as well just have it.”

Nicky laughed from behind them. “You’re a treasure, kiddo.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Teenagero.”

“No,” Andrew said.

Neil picked up an apple from the basket, examining it with curious eyes. It was perfectly red, almost as if hand-painted; but when he turned it over, he saw a dark spot sprouting on it. “It’s starting to go bad,” he muttered, half to himself. “It’s no good anymore.”

“It looks perfectly fine to me,” Andrew said from his spot opposite him. He put the basket on the nightstand and approached Neil, taking the apple from between his loose fingertips. Then he took a bite.

“Hey!” Neil called, pouting. “Don’t you think it’s rude, going around eating other people’s apples?”

“Yeah, Andrew,” Nicky cackled from the threshold. “How would you feel if someone licked your cake?”

“This,” Andrew said, “isn’t a cake.”

“But you can make a cake out of it,” said Renee casually.

Andrew rolled his eyes while he chewed, practically shoving the apple back into Neil’s grasp. And then he halted.

“Don’t eat that,” he said, eyes lowered at Neil. Neil’s own eyes widened as he saw Andrew waver, fingers clutching the edge of the nightstand beside him.

“Andrew?” Nicky said, voice concerned. “Are you —“

But before Nicky could finish his inquiry, Andrew stumbled, backing a few steps away — and then he completely collapsed, knees hitting the ground with a hard thud. Neil stood up from the bed at the same time Nicky sprang forward, catching Andrew before his head hit the floorboards.

“Andrew?” Nicky demanded. “Andrew, what’s wrong?”

“He’s unconscious,” Renee said, crouching beside them. She put her palm above Andrew’s face, checking for breathing. “His breathing seems to be okay, but…”

Neil stood frozen for a moment, staring at the scene in front of him, before looking down to the apple still clutched in his hand. He sniffed it and promptly dropped it. “It’s poisoned.”

“ _Poisoned_?” Nicky shrieked.

“I just told him,” Renee said, glaring at Andrew’s limp form. “If he dies because of his sweet tooth…”

“Neil, please tell me you have the antidote!” Nicky exclaimed. “We have to do something!”

Neil was already going through his satchel, throwing aside bottles of herbs and useless containers. It was hard to tell what kind of poison it was just from the smell of it, and for once he wasn’t stupid enough to go and taste it. He might’ve risked it if he weren’t running for his life, but with Riko’s men after him… “No, it’s no good,” he said, glancing from the bottles in his hold to Andrew on the floor. “I can’t make an antidote out of any of these.”

“There has to be something —“

And at that moment, the window shuttered, a rock almost hitting Renee. She swiped it aside with the hilt of her sword and stood up, ready to unsheathe it, as Neil instinctively grabbed his duffle bag and retreated toward the door.

What made him halt was the sight of a tall, dark haired man dressed in royal attire, climbing through the broken window and cursing as a shard of glass imbedded itself in his arm. He didn’t seem bothered, however, by the now-drawn sword that Renee was pointing at him, and instead looked at Andrew’s body on the floor. “Who the hell is this?”

“Kevin,” Neil seethed, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Poisoning you,” Kevin replied, plucking the glass shard out with a grimace. “Which seems to have somehow failed spectacularly. Do you know this midget?”

Neil blinked at Kevin in disbelief. “Did you actually think I was going to eat that? _What_ is it with everyone thinking I’m a complete moron? How do ya’ll think I survived the fucking _mafia_?”

“You’re with the mafia?!” Nicky exclaimed.

“Shut up,” Neil and Kevin said simultaneously. Then Kevin turned to Neil and said, “this was Riko’s idea.”

“Of course, because he’s known for having had so many good ideas over the years. Kevin, just give me the antidote.”

“Aha!” Kevin yelled, smoothly evading Renee’s sword as he approached Neil, who smoothly stepped away. “It worked, then.”

Neil raised his eyebrows at him.

“The antidote’s at the castle,” Kevin said. “With Riko. If you want it, you would have to come with me.”

“I’m never going back there,” Neil said.

“Then this guy right there,” Kevin gestured back with his head, “will die.”

Neil looked at Andrew, surrounded by Nicky and Renee. The spiteful, angry midget who’s almost rendered him unable to run looked vulnerable, and it wasn’t a good look on him. All because of a stupid apple that he wasn’t even supposed to eat.

He looked behind him at the empty corridor. It would be so easy to run out of here and disappear; he could run to a country that he’s never even been in, get a new identity and forget about this whole ordeal. Since when has he cared about strangers dying? Hell, he’d killed in the past. What’s another guy?

But he couldn’t do it. Not when Nicky and Renee looked at him like that, and not when he felt like he’s known Andrew for much, much longer than a few hours.

He couldn’t let Andrew die because of him.

Neil sighed.

***

Riko slapped his hand against the throne’s hand-rest. “What is _he_ doing here?!”

Neil blinked at him bemusedly.

“Prince Riko,” Jean sighed from beside the throne, “you’ve requested a search party for him, and devised your evil plan to catch him.”

“Right, right,” Riko said, waving his hand loosely. “But my plan was that he would _pass out_ , not come waltzing into my castle.”

“Technically, it’s your father’s castle,” Neil said. Riko shot him a glare and Jean gestured for him to shut up.

“You, young man,” Riko said, standing up, “have caused me a world of trouble.”

Neil couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Oh, have I?”

“Thanks to you, the kingdom’s opinion of me has plunged. They all think of me as a moron because you ran away. And that stunt you pulled with your hair —“

“Did you like it?”

Riko seethed. “I did _not_ , but,” he composed himself, “it’s of no matter anymore. All will be forgiven once you become my concubine.”

“Go screw yourself,” Neil said, and Jean facepalmed behind Riko.

Riko sighed dramatically. “It would truly be a shame if you refuse me, Neil. That poor boy’s death will be on your hands — a result of your own selfish actions.”

“Right,” Neil said.

“Like an apple,” Riko continued, grabbing an apple from a nearby fruit arrangement. “Red is the colour of fate, isn’t it? And fate has a definitive path, leading you to me.”

He stepped forward, until he was about an arm’s length away from Neil. Neil inched away, glaring at the apple in Riko’s hand.

“Nothing to say?” Riko smirked. Neil lifted his eyes to Riko, neck stretching, and donned his father’s smile. He took the apple from Riko’s still hand, and revelled in the prince’s cautious expression.

“You won’t be able to tame me, Riko,” Neil said, letting the apple roll from his palm to the floor. “I’ll stay here as you wish, once you give Andrew the antidote. But don’t mistake me for a mistress,” he said. “Because you’ll never control me.”

Riko’s face broke into a crooked grin. “We’ll see about that.”

“Get back!” someone yelled from outside the throne room, and Neil and Riko both turned to look at the massive entrance doors. “You have no —“ and the person was cut off by his own scream.

“What the —“

The front doors burst open, and Andrew walked in, sword unsheathed and bloody at his side. “Riko, so good to see you again. Now, kindly get away from my things.”

“Andrew!” Neil called, face breaking into his own grin.

“Who the hell are you?” Riko’s features twisted in confusion. “And how the hell did you get in here?”

Andrew was short enough to be able to lean against the hilt of his sword, its tip propped against the ground. “You know, killed a guard or two. Nicky and Renee are busy taking down your entire royal guard.”

“Jean!” Riko yelled, and Jean lunged at Andrew. Andrew’s sword met Jean’s, and the impact’s screech split the air as Andrew grinned humourlessly and pushed forward. Jean’s sword slid along it and toward the ground, and before he could react, Andrew struck again and had Jean spluttering on his knees, sword flying from his hold to land at Andrew’s feet. Andrew kicked it away, then kicked Jean, then focused his gaze on Riko, who has paled significantly.

“Andrew, how are you…” Neil regarded him up and down, “okay?”

“I’ve been building up an immunity to poison, in case I ever got poisoned,” Andrew said.

“That was really just a misunderstanding,” Riko said, smiling slyly. Andrew looked to him. “Truly unfortunate. I was planning on poisoning Neil, you see, so I could take him to my castle —“

Andrew’s sword was against Riko’s neck in a second, and Riko fell silent. “You should _really_ learn to shut up,” Andrew hissed.

“Watch how you talk to me, boy,” Riko hissed back. “I’m your prince, and a peasant like you has no right to threaten me.”

“It looks to me like fate’s led him to do that,” Neil said from beside them, and they both glared at him. He bit his lip. “I’ll shut up now.”

“I know who you are,” Andrew told Riko. “Riko Moriyama, crown prince of Tanbarun; a pitiful heir, really.” That empty smile was back on his face. “It’s a shame poor Ichirou died on that horse riding accident, because otherwise your kingdom might’ve had a chance to become something at all in the future.”

“You have no right,” Riko hissed. Andrew in response pushed closer, the sword’s edge nicking the prince’s skin.

“Look closely,” Andrew said, eyes flicking down to his sword’s hilt. Riko’s eyes followed, then widened.

“That crest…”

“Let me introduce myself,” Andrew said. “My name’s Andrew Minyard, and I’m the second prince of the kingdom of Clarines. And guess who just tried to poison me? Oh,” Andrew’s voice pitched in disguise of innocence, “that would be you — crown prince of Tanbarun.”

“Y—you —“ Riko’s soul seemed to have left his body. “You have no proof that it was me who gave you the poison!”

“There’s plenty,” Renee said from behind them. She and Nicky have entered the throne-room, swords at the ready, both looking smug at Riko’s predicament. “We could test that at an official inquiry.”

“Let’s make a deal, idiot prince,” Andrew said sweetly, lowering his sword. “If you don’t want your actions to be made public, you will let Neil here go.”

“What? But —“

“You will never approach him again, nor will you ever say his name,” Andrew continued. “It would be a shame if a war broke out between our kingdoms. For you, that is.” He shrugged. “Since your kingdom’s already practically falling apart.”

“Fine! I promise!” Riko exclaimed. “I swear!”

Andrew turned around and walked by Neil.

“Hey, Andrew,” Neil hissed at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t hit your head when you fell? What’s two plus two?”

Andrew halted and looked at the redhead. “I’m serious.”

“He is,” Nicky said.

“No,” Neil said. “You’re not a _prince_. I can’t be that unlucky.”

Andrew looked at him unabashedly, and Neil put his head in his hands. “I _am_ that unlucky. I’ll never be able to disappear again, will I?”

“I’m not here to claim you,” Andrew said, and Neil looked up at him. “You can come with me, or you can go. I’m not pulling you out of one prison to get you into another.”

“I would’ve been fine without your help,” Neil muttered.

“And I believe you,” Andrew said cynically. “Say what you have to say to the idiot prince, before you’ll never see him again.”

“A loss, truly,” Neil smiled. He turned to Riko, who was slouching against his throne with all the fight gone from him. Neil picked up the apple that he dropped and handed it to Riko, who took it with obvious hesitance.

Neil wore his father’s smile once again, and with his most ominously sweet voice he said, “Prince Riko, I hope you choke on this.”

When he left the room along with Andrew, with Renee and Nicky at their backs, Riko sat frozen on his throne, a perfectly red apple held firm in his hand.

Neil, on the other hand, felt like he could properly breathe again.

***

“So, what were you three doing in the abandoned mansion in the first place?”

Andrew glanced at Neil from over his shoulder. “I like spending time there.”

Neil frowned. “ _Why_? The place is practically falling apart.”

“He likes that it pisses Aaron off,” Nicky said. “When we leave the palace.”

“Who’s Aaron?”

“His brother,” Nicky said, and Neil turned his eyes to the blond.

“You haven’t told me you have a brother.”

“It would be implied from the fact I’m second prince.”

“Oh,” Neil pulled at the vowel, his mouth slightly agape in a manner reminiscing of wonder. “That makes sense.”

Andrew sighed deeply.

“Neil,” Renee interrupted. “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

“Hell yeah,” Neil said, his eyes lighting up. “Are we getting back by horse?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to ride one,” Andrew clipped.

“We have an extra horse,” Nicky said, and Andrew’s lips thinned in a humourless smile.

“Not anymore.”

“What? What do you mean, not _anymore_? Andrew —“

“Gingerbread, you’re with me.” Andrew practically pulled Neil up onto the back of his horse.

“Andrew, _what did you do to Johnny_?”

“Put your hands around my waist.”

Neil complied, stringing his arms around Andrew’s waist, holding tight purely for safety reasons. His fingers brushed against Andrew’s belt.

“Andrew!”

“Yeehaw us away, Samantha.”

And they rode off into the sunset, Nicky yelling at them from afar, his voice dissipating into the wind like Andrew’s moral compass had when he was born.

“What did you actually do with Johnny?” Neil asked once Clarines came into sight.

“Oh, nothing in particular,” Andrew replied. “Just left him in a strategic place.”

Neil mulled over his answer, before finding it satisfactory — heavens know why — and leaned into Andrew’s straight form. Purely for safety reasons.

***

_Meanwhile, Inside Tanbarun’s Royal Castle_

Riko yelped and stumbled away from his washing chambers. “What the _fuck_?!”

Jean, hearing Riko’s scream, lazily stalked in from another room with a half-eaten apple in hand. “What is it, Prince Riko?”

“T—th—there’s—“ Riko pointed a quivering finger toward the washing chambers. Jean sighed and walked inside to inspect whatever it was that seemed to bother the stingy prince.

A few seconds of silence passed before Jean walked back out, empty-handed and wearing a perfectly blank face. “I’ll go get some apples.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I'm so excited to be getting to Clarines next chapter, it's going to be wild. Thank you so much for reading, and also special thanks to anyone who commented on and kudosed (is that a word?) the first chapter!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heads-up for some violence in this chapter. Personally I don't think it's very graphic, but just in case.  
> Also! Buckle your seatbelts and get yourselves a snack (or a cup of tea?), because this is one loooong chapter :D Enjoy!!

Neil almost stiffened at the sound of a twig snapping a few feet behind him.

He continued walking along the path just as leisurely as he has until now. He’d been suspecting that he wasn’t alone ever since he’s walked into this forest; but the brief shuffle of soles against the grass as his shadow disappeared again was unmistakable.

He told himself not to panic. His father’s men were all dead and buried, dust and bones six feet underground, and his father — well, Neil was there when he’d been impaled clean through his heart. The only place that bastard was walking these days was in the folds of his memory, or deep into the night.

It was probably some thief, wanting to snatch away the belongings of a seemingly naive hiker. Neil thought himself to be neither naive nor a hiker, and he had a switchblade on him, so he considered himself golden. And that was even if the worst case scenario happened and the coward trailing him would decide to come out from shadows and actually do something.

Kevin oftentimes told him he was a little too cocky for someone who’s been on his deathbed more than once. Neil replied by saying that some mornings, he just felt like spitting in someone’s face, and the face of death was the closest one. Kevin had said that the next time he felt the urge, he should just spit on a mirror, to which Neil barely restrained himself from spitting in _his_ face.

Neil knew he was screwed when he heard a second pair of shoes pattering behind him. One could mistake them for being one and the same with the earlier pair, but Neil was all too familiar with having to assess the amount of people gunning for his ass without actually seeing any of them. So he decided to cut his losses, tightened the strap of his satchel, got off the trail and, after losing himself between a couple of trees, broke into a run downhill.

His shadows stopped pretending they weren’t there and broke into a run after him.

Neil was fast, and inertia was on his side; but the trees weren’t. The terrain was unfamiliar, and now that he was off the path he had absolutely no idea where he was or where he was going. His pursuers seemed to know the area better than him; they constantly found mysterious shortcuts that kept them in sight right over his shoulder.

He cursed in a dozen flavours when the toes of his boots dug into the ground and he staggered to a halt in front of a tall stone wall. The birds laughed at him overhead from between the twigs as he turned around to face his two pursuers.

“I have nothing to give you,” he tried. Diplomacy before violence, right? Or was it diplomacy _of_ violence? Neil could never really grasp the difference between the two, but if he could relay the message that he had nothing but plants in his possession — and the clothes he was wearing, but even he didn’t think anyone would want those — then maybe they would leave him alone, and no blood would have to be shed.

Also, he really needed these plants.

One of the thieves snickered into his sleeve. “You think we want your pathetic bag, or the coins in your pocket?”

“I have no coins in my pocket,” Neil hurried to clarify. “I have literally _nothing_ to give you, unless you really, really like grass.”

“Tempting, but no,” said the other thief, taking a step closer. Neil instinctively stepped back, looking for escapes in his peripheral vision. The stone wall went on in both directions, so his only option was to try and bypass the two, or knock them out. And how hard could that be? Neither of them had any weapons. “What do you want, then?”

“Isn’t it obvious, pretty boy?” said the first with a toothy grin, and Neil braced himself. “We want _you_.”

Neil pulled his switchblade out of his pocket, and they attacked.

He swore he could feel Kevin’s ghost gloating over him all the way from Tanbarun.

***

_A Few Hours Ago, Inside a Humble(-ish) Clarinesian Herbal Shop_

Neil leaned across the counter, scouring the jars of medicine shelved top-to-bottom across the opposite wall. There were such unique herbs here; some that were too rare in Tanbarun, and so his broke ass never managed to afford them, and some that he’s never even seen before.

“Looking for a job, you say?” said the merchant, pulling Neil’s attention from the wall to the much duller person standing in front of it.

“As a herbalist, yes,” Neil said.

The merchant scrunched up his face. “We don’t need anyone right now.”

“Well, then do you know anyone who does?”

The merchant blinked at Neil’s apparent apathy. “Kid, you sure you’re old enough to work?”

“I’m nineteen,” Neil snapped. “And I bet I know more about herbs and medicine than you, too.”

“Honey, we talked about it,” a women from across the room told the merchant. “Don’t judge people based on their looks. It’s inappropriate.”

“What she said,” Neil said. “So, do you have a job for me or not?”

“Well…” said the merchant, “I don’t. But if you’re as skilled as you say you are, you might manage to qualify as a court herbalist.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed. “Court herbalist?”

“They hold an exam once a year, and coincidentally, this year’s exam is in — yes, exactly a week.”

“I’m going to kill Andrew,” Neil muttered to himself. Why would Andrew keep this information from him? He knew Neil needed a job — heck, he was the one responsible for Neil landing himself, jobless and hopeless, in Clarines in the first place — so why didn’t he tell him about this? Did Andrew not want him around the castle?

Neil looked at the wall of herbal fame again, and pulled a handful of coins from his pocket. “I’ll also take five grams of each of these.” He gestured at the jars.

“You got the money, kid?”

Neil was ready to lean over the counter to punch the merchant in the face when the woman called from across the room again. “Honey, we talked about this!”

The merchant paled. “I’m so sorry, I keep judging you. You’re just so… small. Do you eat enough?”

Neil felt his face going red. He wasn’t small, he was _compact._

“Honey, come on!” called the woman, and the merchant put his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, man. My fear of judgment keeps making me judge others. I’m working on it, but it’s no excuse.” Neil straightened in surprise, and the merchant continued before he could open his mouth. “Let me give you a fifty-percent discount for the heartache. That’ll be two hundred in silver.”

Neil’s eyes widened fractionally. That was the price with a _discount_? He looked down at the coins in his palm and started to count them, realising he had only slightly more than enough. With a goodbye to a proper warm dinner he handed over the coins, receiving in return a small bag with twenty-or-so small containers of the different herbs.

With the court-herbalist job exam being a week away, Neil knew he had some things to catch up on. He would like to go find these unfamiliar plants in the wild if he could; knowing a plant’s terrain was half the necessary knowledge. He could piece together the characteristics based on his already existent vast knowledge, and when he got home, he planned on doing some experiments with them. A tiny evil laugh echoed inside his head.

From the herbal shop, Neil walked straight toward the castle, not realising he did so until he was standing in front of the gates. Two guards stared at him — or, quite obviously, at his red hair. It was shorter now and clung to his skull, as once they’d arrived in Clarines, Andrew had insisted on having a so called ‘professional’ adjust it, but it was still definitely eye-catching.

“You’re like an anime protagonist,” murmured one of them, and Neil’s eyebrows scrunched. The other guard hit the one who spoke on the shoulder.

“A what now?” Neil asked.

“Forget it,” replied the other guard. “Are you here for Andrew?”

“How did you know that?” Neil himself hasn’t even known that. Damn his reflexes, taking him places without telling him first. And damn Andrew for messing up said reflexes — which, until now, have always taken him away from things and not _toward_ them.

“Andrew said that if a stupid redhead came by, we should let him in without question,” said the first guard. Neil frowned.

“Why are you asking me questions, then?”

“It’s our job,” said the other guard.

“But if Andrew said —“

“Gingerbread,” said a familiar voice from behind him. The two guards instantly straightened and saluted, and Neil looked back to see a bored-looking Andrew. “Stop harassing the guards.”

“They were harassing me,” Neil said defensively.

“Prince Andrew, I swear we didn’t,” said the second guard. Andrew barely spared him a glance before grabbing Neil’s cuff and dragging him away. Neil went willingly, making a face at the guards.

“Stop making that face,” Andrew said once they came to a halt, letting go of his cuff. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“What do you reckon would be a good look on me, then?” Neil replied.

Andrew regarded him as he adjusted his cuff and smoothed out his white dress shirt. He was generally underdressed; he wore no jacket or mantle like those Andrew did, and his belt remained just as weaponless as before, much to Andrew’s dismay. His satchel was strapped across his body, making his shirt cling to his torso, and his simple leather pants were shoved into the same almost knee-high laced boots he’s worn when they’ve met. Andrew was almost completely sure that this was the only outfit Neil had in his possession.

Not that he was complaining or anything.

“Nothing, really,” Andrew said dryly, and Neil made that same face at him.

“What are you doing outside of the castle, anyway?” Neil asked, crossing his arms. “Don’t you have all that royal gibberish desk-work to do, or something?”

“Are you my guardian?” Andrew replied. “I get enough of a headache from Nicky breathing down my neck about it. While we’re at it, is there a reason you’re here, except for to bother the guards?”

“You’re the one who said to tell you when I plan on leaving town,” Neil retorted.

“Yes, so that I’ll know when to throw my parties,” Andrew said.

“You don’t like parties.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t throw them.”

Neil narrowed his eyes at him. “You really wouldn’t invite me to your party?”

“With your personality, you’d probably break everything and then yourself, and suddenly the king will be throwing you in jail,” Andrew said slowly, as if pondering the notion. “So maybe it isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Neil scoffed and turned to go, waving a hand leisurely. “I should be back by nightfall.”

“Where are you going?” Andrew said after him, not bothering to raise his voice despite the growing distance between them. Neil turned his head to look at him.

“The woods,” Neil said. “I’ll be studying your weird Clarinesian plants before my court-herbalist exam.”

And then he walked away, leaving Andrew standing on the sidewalk.

***

_Back to The Unfortunate Present_

Neil’s head ricocheted off of the stone wall as a pair of hands slammed him against it, and for a moment he saw stars.

No, wait, these were actual stars.   
“Oh no,” Neil said, and the bandit grinned.

“Oh yes,” said the bandit, but Neil didn’t hear him. “You’re screwed.”

_Andrew is going to kill me_ , was what Neil heard instead, glaring at the pink and orange that sprinkled into the sky between the high branches. He tried to shoo the oncoming night away, banish the pretty colours back to a dull azure — but to no avail.

“Hey, get your head out of the clouds,” snapped the bandit, and Neil half-heartedly turned his attention back to the arguably more pressing issue standing in front of him. He stabbed the guy in his side with his switchblade, then kicked him in his nuts, and looked at him blandly as he slid to the ground with a cry.

Neil sent a cold glare in the other bandit’s direction, and wasn’t too surprised to discover it was all it took to send him running. Neil looked back at the whimpering mess of a man at his feet and crouched beside him with a sigh.

“This is what having friends is going to give you,” he told the guy as he pulled his switchblade out. He climbed to his feet and sidestepped him with a shake of the head. “They’ll send you running into danger and bolt themselves at the first sign of trouble.”

“Exactly,” said a feminine voice from overhead. Neil tensed, but before he could react further, a hand grabbed his mouth from behind, pressing a moist cloth to his face. Neil grunted and tried to elbow his assailant, but that grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back so hard that the switchblade he was holding clattered uselessly to the ground. He completely froze when he felt breathing next to his ear, followed by his assailant quietly saying, “it’s especially annoying when you pay them.”

Drowsiness swept over him, and Neil belatedly realized that the cloth must’ve been infused with some kind of drug. It had no scent, but its effect was almost immediate; Neil could do nothing against his buckling knees and he slipped to the ground, his assailant still holding firm, not letting him wriggle his way free.

Andrew was so, so going to kill him.

***

Andrew leaned against his balcony, overlooking the castle’s gates with a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his fingers. The courtyard was dark.

To an outsider, Andrew might’ve looked bored, spending an evening under the mercy of the stars. On the inside, this was what he was trying to convince himself that he was.

“Andrew!” Nicky’s voice came from the balcony under the one Andrew was standing on. “Are you smoking again? It’s impossible to breathe down here.”

He was going to kill Neil, if the idiot wasn’t already floating down some river in the woods.

Andrew, who was already looking down, saw Nicky wriggle his spine so that he was looking up at him with a scowl distinguishable even in the dark. “How many times do I need to tell you that it’s inappropriate for a prince to be smoking? You’ll get wrinkles when you’re in your twenties, and then no one will want to marry you.”

“I’m already twenty,” Andrew replied, flicking some ash down at Nicky’s head. “And Aaron’s got more wrinkles than me.”

“I do not,” said a voice with the same shade as Andrew’s from above. Andrew flicked his eyes up to see his doppelgänger scowling down at him from his own balcony. In a palace as vast as the royal Clarinesian castle, one might ask: why would they put the two princes’ chambers one below the other, and below that the chambers of one of the guards, who also happened to be the nagging cousin who used to tell them to eat their vegetables when they were little, and so they both held a very bitter grudge against him? But that was an idle inquiry. In reality, the only situation where that mattered was out here on the balconies; the chance of all three of them going out to breathe the refreshing evening air at the same time was minuscule, what with their busy schedules and varying lifestyles. Andrew has managed to diminish said chances further by making sure the refreshing evening air was as impossible to breathe as it comes, smoking whenever he did go out on the balcony.

Which made this occurrence very peculiar indeed.

“You’ve got wrinkles around your eyes,” he told Aaron, taking a drag from his cigarette. “When you do that thing with your face.”

“Most people smile when they’re happy,” Aaron shot back. “You would know that if you weren’t such a miserable human being.”

“So deeply wounded,” Andrew said, puffing the smoke upward. Aaron coughed and glared at him.

“Andrew’s been happy lately,” Nicky shouted from his balcony to Aaron. “Ever since Neil came to Clarines!”

“Nicky,” Andrew threatened, his head snapping up again when he heard Aaron snicker.

“Andrew, happy? Who’s this Neil you say who does that?”

“He’s no one,” Andrew snapped at his brother. “And I’m not happy. So shut up, Nicky, or the next time you yell that for the entire courtyard to hear I’m going to hang you from that tree over there.”

The three of them looked down at the courtyard, which was definitely not empty. Royals were strolling by the bushes, a few kids playing around the giant oak tree. Luckily, it seemed that no one’s paid attention to the nonsense Nicky and Aaron were spewing, so no blood would have to be shed tonight.

Except for Neil’s. Because as soon as Andrew found him, he would wring his neck and feed his remains to the vultures.

Andrew took a final drag from the cigarette, stubbed it against the stone railing, and dropped it down to Nicky’s balcony.

“Andrew, for the love of God!” Nicky exclaimed as Andrew walked back into his chambers, slamming the balcony’s door shut behind him.

Andrew walked down the street, hand resting against the sheath of his sword, the hood of his mantle thrown over his head. If anybody looked too long or too closely, it was likely that his signature royal clothes would give away his status; but in the darkness of evening and with his face shadowed, he was granted at least some semblance of anonymity, which proved essential when one was looking for someone who was unofficially missing.

Results weren’t late to show when he caught a snippet of conversation between a vendor and what looked to be his wife. “With unique hair like that, it’s no wonder she came after him.”

Andrew paused in his tracks, pretending to inspect a nearby apple stand. He heard the women humming in agreement.

“Someone like him should know not to walk into the woods alone, without a weapon no less,” she said. “But maybe the poor girl could finally reclaim her title.”

“But, at his expanse?” said the vendor. “He looked like quite the free spirit. I doubt he would like to marry off to a royal, much less one he doesn’t know.”

“It’s bound to happen to those wanted on the market,” the woman said with a sigh, and Andrew almost crushed the apple he was holding in his hand.

“If you harm the goods, you’ll have to pay,” said the merchant in front of him. Andrew sent him a dark look, and the merchant, undoubtedly recognising him, pulled back. “Eh— Your Highness, of course it doesn’t apply to you, b-but if you would like to buy—“

“Shut up,” Andrew said, dropping the apple back to the pile from which it came. Then, after a beat of thought, he turned around and crossed the street toward the vendor and his wife. “This redhead. Where exactly did he go?”

The vendor and his wife scrambled to bow.

“Prince Andrew,” the vendor said. “We saw him going into the forest right there —“ he pointed behind Andrew at the end of the street, where the forest began—“but we don’t know where he went from there.”

“He followed the path?”

“I— I think so, yes.”

Andrew stepped closer, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sheathed sword for emphasis. “And this girl. What does she want with him?”

“To offer him for her family, most likely,” said the vendor’s wife. “Her way of life has unsatisfied her parents, and they’re in the process of disowning her. Every now and then she does one crazy thing or another to try and regain her family’s name and their approval.”

Andrew considered this. “How crazy is she?”

“She’s a bit extreme,” interrupted the vendor. “But she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Dear,” the wife muttered, and Andrew looked between them. “He’s a royal.”

“Okay, fine,” sighed the vendor. “She and a few of her — accomplices — often use extreme measures to make sure the complicated ones don’t, um — how do I put this lightly? — run away.”

_Great,_ Andrew thought. Now Neil will run away and disappear into the sunset, because he sure as hell wouldn’t marry a crazy royal bitch. Hell, he’d _met_ him while he’d been in the process of doing just that — what would stop him from doing it again?

“And how long ago was that?” he asked the vendor.

“A good few hours,” replied that. “Although I’ve seen neither come out of the woods yet.”

“Do you think something’s happened?” the wife whispered nervously.

“What could happen?” said the vendor dismissively. “It’s not like she would kill him.”

“Probably,” she said, and Andrew’s gaze snapped to her. She cowered in her stance, drawing closer to her husband.

If Neil got himself killed by a crazy royal bitch, Andrew would bring him back from the dead just to kill him again for his stupidity.

He didn’t bother thanking the couple, and sent another dark look at the merchant when that called for him to buy some of his awful apples. Seriously, who sold apples when they were this soft? They might as well just be rotten.

He walked along the road and into the forest. He was almost immediately surrounded by darkness; the street-lamps and lights of the houses died out between the branches, and faint fragments of moonlight snuck their way down here. As he walked along the path, his eyes grew used to the darkness, but he couldn’t help the vigilance embedded into his motions.

A low whine made him hold still, before he decided to follow it. He walked off the trail and made his way downhill, walking slowly as to not bump into any rocks or tree-trunks. His sword was drawn, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

He halted not far from a tall stone wall, looking down at a man that lay sprawled at its feet, curled in on himself and clutching his side. The man lifted his head at Andrew’s approach, but barely managed to hold it upright against his tremble. “Josh? Is that you?”

Andrew crouched beside the man, not even bothering to aim the sword at him. A dark red stain made most of his white shirt not so white anymore; somehow, he had a feeling he knew what has transpired down here. “Where is he?”

The man dropped his head and groaned. “She— she took him.”

“That looks like a nasty wound,” Andrew said, gesturing with his sword awfully close to the man’s abdomen. The man inched away, his tremble intensifying. “Do you know where she took him?”

“I— listen man, I have no clue,” he said. “Just don’t kill me.”

“That depends,” Andrew said. “Is he alive?”

“What?” The man’s voice pitched in surprise, and he curled in on himself with a huff of pain. “Of course he is. She— I didn’t touch him, really. I didn’t.”

“Did she?”

“I don’t know man, I wasn’t exactly coherent,” the man grunted. “The son of a bitch fucking _stabbed_ me.”

“I can see that,” Andrew said dismissively, climbing to his feet. This guy wasn’t going to be much help for him like this, anyway. Maybe if he’d find Neil alive and well, he’d send him to patch this guy up with his plants as punishment for ruining Andrew’s evening plans of doing absolutely nothing.

Andrew sheathed his sword and turned around, inspecting the scene for clues.

Something caught his eye, glinting from the grass in the moonlight. Andrew crouched and picked it up. It was Neil’s pathetic switchblade; from the blood staining it, Andrew guessed this was what Neil had used to stab the guy. Which meant the girl had disarmed him. Then he saw the trail in the dirt, which looked like what would be left behind from someone dragging an unconscious body through a forest.

Pocketing the switchblade, he got up and followed the trail until he reached a small cabin. Two oil lamps stood by the door, emitting a soft, yellow light that didn’t reach very far into the woods. Andrew could see hints of smoke escaping the chimney, and light coming from inside.

The quiet of the night was disrupted by him slamming the door open, drawing his sword in the same motion.

He froze in his place when he saw Neil blinking up at him with a cup of tea in his hand. He was sat by a wooden table, on which stood a tray with a steaming tea pot on it. From the other side of the table, a blonde, tall women blinked at him in much the same manner Neil did.

“What the actual fuck,” Andrew said.

“Andrew,” Neil said, a tight smile curling at his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I will actually kill you,” Andrew said, pointing his sword at him. Then he turned and pointed the sword at the women, who’s set her cup down. “But first —“

He stepped forward to impale the bitch, but Neil stood up, gesturing for him to calm down. “Andrew, it’s fine. She’s a friend.”

“A _friend_?” Andrew said. “She kidnapped you.”

“That’s true,” Neil said, to which she sheepishly smiled, “but she’s gone back on that.”

Andrew looked between the two of them, his sword still pointed at the women. “Do explain to me what the fuck do you mean by that.”

“Okay, I will,” Neil said, “but first, I need you to not kill her — or me, I would very much like to stay alive — and sit down.”

Andrew relented, sheathing his sword and pulling back an empty chair next to Neil, from which he glared at the woman.

“Here,” Neil said, and Andrew looked to him. Neil was holding out a brand new cup of steaming hot tea.

“What’s next, are we going to set down the dolls and have a tea party?” Andrew said dryly.

“I mean, you did say you wanted to throw a party in my absence,” Neil noted.

“I also said I am going to kill you,” Andrew said, “and the urge grows stronger inside of me the longer you’re not explaining.”

Neil raised his eyebrows at him, and Andrew took the cup with a murder glare. He sipped the tea angrily, and was too pissed to admit it was actually delicious — which it wasn’t, because nothing could be delicious when you were _this_ pissed —

“I made it myself,” Neil said.

Andrew looked at him blankly.

“What are the chances they’ll assign me to make tea at the exam?” Neil pondered, then shook his head. “Okay, never mind. Well, let me explain how I ended up here.”

***

_One Hour Ago_

Neil woke up, knowing before he opened his eyes that his wrists were rope-bound over his head and that he was sitting on cold, bare ground, all his belongings still on him. Except — yeah, he’d dropped the switchblade in the forest. Now he’d have to buy a new one with the money he didn’t have.

Blinking his eyes open, he discovered that he was sitting inside a small, empty cell. There was nothing in it except for him. Beyond the thick bars, a young, blonde women was sitting on a wooden chair, studying him intently. She didn’t recoil when their eyes interlocked.

“Run away,” she said, and he stared at her. She gestured generally. “Prove the rumours, Redhead Runaway. Run away.”

“There are rumours about me?” Neil asked, heart dropping in his chest. This was the last thing he needed. A sly smile hang from her lips.

“Word travels fast in the upper ring,” she said. “Those of us who gossip know more than enough about you.”

Neil willed his heartbeat to slow down. “Yeah?” he said, licking his lips. His mouth was dry. “What do you know about me, then?”

“One,” she said, straightening her index finger, “you’re a runner. Two,” she straightened her middle finger as well, “you have a wicked mouth on you. Three,” her ring finger straightened, “you have one of a kind red hair. The rumours don’t do it justice, really.”

Neil looked at her evenly, his heart finally slowing down. So she knew nothing at all about him.

“You’re drop-dead gorgeous,” she said, “and you can’t be contained. Which means you have to be enough.”

At that he frowned. “Enough?”

“You see, Redhead Runaway,” she said, mock-whispering, “I’ll tell you a secret. My parents don’t love me.”

“Neither did mine,” he spat. “Get over it, princess.”

She halted, a grin overtaking her features. It was wild; the sharp edge clashed with her delicate features like waves crashing on ice. “They think I’m too ambitious for my own good,” she continued. “So they disowned me. Or, they’re trying to. You will be the one to change their minds.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?” he asked with a twist to his mouth. “Go in, swoon them with my pretty hair?”

“I will offer you up. They will say, _oh, Allison, what a catch you’ve found. Is this the redhead that has turned the Tanbarunian prince down_?” Her voice pitched unnaturally. “We will get engaged, they will have their gossip and publicity, and then they’ll finally acknowledge me as their rightful daughter and heir.”

“Not interested, thanks,” Neil said dryly, fingers scratching against the rope. It wasn’t too tight around his wrists; maybe he could wiggle them off of him.

“It’s not up for debate,” she said. “Do you think _I_ want to get married to a stranger? I mean, you’re hot, but I don’t know you. And yet I still need you to get my title back.”

“What do you need it for?” Neil said.

“What?”

He shrugged. “If you don’t want to do this, then why do it? What do you need a royal title for?”

“My parents say only those of title have any worth to them,” she said. “Commoners are like weed in a forest. They’re stepped on, never considered, never heard. They don’t matter.”

“I can’t say I agree with you,” Neil said. “I’m a commoner. I don’t always have money for luxury, but why would I need that? I get to do whatever the hell I want.” He felt the moment the rope binding his wrists loosened, and when he pulled his arms down, they went freely. A faint burn itched against his skin, and he rubbed one of his wrists. “What more do I need?”

She stared at him. “How did you do that?”

He couldn’t help the smirk that came on his lips. “You said it yourself, princess. Runaway.”

She rubbed her brow, leaning forward in her chair. He looked at her curiously, not moving to try and get out of the cell. Not yet.

“It doesn’t matter what your family thinks of you,” he said. “And they’re not the ones you need to satisfy. Sometimes parents have the kind of expectations you just can’t meet.”

She sighed, looking to him. “How would you know that?”

“You’re not the only one with a complicated family,” he said, looking down at his hands. He could picture a phantom sword clutched in his palm, dripping blood, and hear a distant laugh echoing in his ears, breaking like waves on a faraway shore. “Believe me, if they’d throw you to the wolves like that, you’re better off without them.”

She regarded him with a long look. When she spoke, he floated back to reality and looked up at her. “The rumours didn’t talk about that.”

“Will they?”

“No,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“You know what can make this whole situation better?” he said suddenly, opening his satchel to pull out a small, clear bag with herbs in it. The girl perked up, her eyes glinting with newfound interest.

“Drugs?”

“What?” Neil said, brow furrowing. “No. Tea.”

The girl blinked at him.

“There’s a hearth right there,” he said, gesturing behind the girl. She turned around to look at the hearth, then looked back to him. He smiled innocently. “If you let me out of here, I can make you some _very_ refreshing tea. I have an assortment.”

“You sneaky bastard,” she said, standing up from the chair with a key in hand. “That tea better be good, or I’m throwing you back in here.”

Neil wobbled to his feet, shoving away the instinctual alarm at the fact his legs have fallen asleep. He didn’t think he was in any substantial danger anymore, and the thought of tea already made him feel better.

Who was he kidding — knowing he wasn’t going to die or be sold off to pirates made him fucking _ecstatic_. The tea was just the cherry on top of the _going to live another day_ cake.

***

_Back to The Present_

“And it turns out Allison is also a herbalist!” Neil concluded with an enthusiastic tone. “Which means she could become a court-herbalist with me.”

“Your parents disowned you because you wanted to be a herbalist?” Andrew said, sipping from his third cup of tea. He was going to bribe Neil to make him this tea every night from now on.

Allison nodded. “When I told them to fuck off and went to study herbs and medicine instead of marrying a boring royal and becoming a housewife, they decided I didn’t qualify as their daughter anymore.”

“Which is messed up,” Neil added over his twelfth cup. The perk of being the tea dealer was that he could drink as much as he wanted to.

“Totally,” Allison agreed. “So from now on I’m not going to give a single damn and go live my own life.”

“And you told her that?” Andrew asked Neil. Neil nodded.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Neil said suddenly, paling. “I think I left a guy to bleed out in the forest. Do you think he’s dead yet? Maybe we should go help him.”

“How did what I said remind you of that,” Andrew said. Neil finished his tea and stood up.

“Harold will be fine,” Allison said. “He’s got more blood in him than the average human. Sit down, I haven’t finished my tea yet.”

“How come?” Neil said, sitting down. Allison waved her fingers dismissively.

“Their family is genetically fucked,” she said. “Some say they’re cursed.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Cursed?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, slurping her tea with a secretive expression. “Once every third generation, their elder is born with all the red cells of that generation’s offsprings. The rest of the siblings die at birth from anemia — and if a miracle happens and they survive, they suffer from it for the rest of their lives, which are rarely long.”

Neil bore wide, round eyes at her as he poured himself another cup. “Tell me more.”

Andrew sighed deeply, and pushed his cup across the table for another round of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love tea so much. Thank you for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

Neil made his way through the maze of corridors that was the Clarinesian Royal Castle. The directions Andrew’s given him to his chambers were pretty straightforward, if Neil would say so himself; turn left at every intersection, and after you see the blue vase with the red dots and the tiny chip on its edge when you look at it from a thirty-five point seven degrees’ angle from the left _— “Did you have to be so specific, Andrew?”_ — turn right, walk straight-straight-straight, and if you see a pair of large mahogany doors, you’ve reached the right place. Easy, right?

No, not right. Not right at all. Very utterly wrong.

Neil had assumed that Andrew was playing some kind of practical joke on him when he’d started describing the vase’s chip with such detail, and so Neil had simply turned right after the first blue vase with red dots that he’s seen. Of course, he’d thought it was slightly strange that it’d been the first turn — why would Andrew tell him to turn right at every intersection before then, if there were no prior intersections? But it turned out _Neil_ was the idiot in this equation, because apparently, every damn vase in this castle had the exact same design of blue with red dots.

Except one very particular vase, which had a chip on its edge when you looked at it from a thirty-five point seven degrees’ angle from the left.

It ended with him running for his life from an angry, posh lady, who yelled and swore at him while chasing him with a spatula dripping sizzling oil. When he’d finally managed to lose her, thankfully still well and alive, Neil has found himself right where he’d started.

Taking a deep breath, Neil began his search for the vase.

He turned left, saw a blue vase and came to inspect it. No chip. He turned left, and came to inspect the next blue vase. No chip. He turned left again.

This went on for a few intersections, until the forsaken chipped vase was found. Neil turned right and allowed himself a relieved sigh when a pair of large, mahogany doors came into view.

He knocked on them, and grinned when Andrew opened.

And then his smile fizzled away, and Neil narrowed his eyes at the man standing in front of him. He was blond, and he was the right hight of five foot and a peanut; his features were sharp and his eyes held a hazel hue. But his stance was too upright, his clothes a tad bit too colourful. And above all, the look in his eyes was different; it didn’t have the blank, careless demeanour that Andrew’s eyes claimed, instead parading an expression of alarm.

“Who the hell are you?” Neil said, and the Andrew-lookalike screwed up his face.

“You’re the one who came to my doorstep,” he said. “ _I_ should be the one asking that. Who are you, and what do you want?”

Neil scrutinised him with baffled suspicion. This wasn’t Andrew, but it _looked_ like him. Then the realization hit him. “No fucking way.”

“What?” the Andrew-lookalike snapped as Neil stifled the grin that threatened to break onto his face.

“No way,” he said again, leaning against the doorway and effectively stopping the lookalike from slamming the door in his face. “You and Andrew are twins.”

“Of course we’re twins,” the blond said. “Have you been living under a rock or something? The whole kingdom knows who its princes are.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless—”

“I’m not from here,” Neil said flippantly, gesturing vaguely. “I came from the great pile of trash that is Tanbarun. You know, Andrew mentioned that he had an older brother, but I’ve always assumed he meant like a _proper_ big brother, who was actually older than him.”

“I am older than him,” said the lookalike flatly. “I’m the crown prince.”

“But how much older are you?” Neil pushed. “What, an hour? Two hours?”

The lookalike blinked at him, and Neil’s features perked in interest. “More? Less? Throw me a bone here.”

“Five minutes.”

Neil blinked. “What?”

The lookalike crossed his arms with a glare, seeming to grow increasingly impatient. “I was born five minutes before Andrew.”

“No fucking way,” Neil said, covering his gaping mouth with the back of his hand. “I can’t believe Andrew was _five minutes_ late to getting an entire kingdom — holy shit, this is like losing a multibillion-prize lottery by a single number. By a _fraction_ of a number. By a _milli-fraction_ of a number. I can’t believe this.”

“Are you done?” said the lookalike, his eyebrows perked.

“Not even close,” Neil said, and the lookalike — his name was Aaron, Neil reminded himself — looked ready to slam the door in his face, despite Neil being in the way. Or maybe because of it. “Woah, wait,” Neil said, outstretching a hand as if to fend offthe door. “Wait, do you know where Andrew is?”

Aaron halted. “What’s he to you?”

“My friend,” Neil said, and Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “I was on my way to his chambers, but for some reason I ended up here. Now I have no idea where his chambers are supposed to be anymore.”

“Andrew doesn’t have friends.”

Neil took back. “He has plenty.”

“He really doesn’t,” Aaron said. “And he probably never will. So tell me who you are and what you really want before I call the guards on you.”

“I’m not lying.”

Aaron regarded him up and down. “You look like a liar to me.”

“And why would you care?” Neil changed tactics. “I’m not your problem. Just tell me where his chambers are.”

“It’s my problem if I let a stranger murder my brother,” Aaron said, and Neil huffed.

“As if he would let me kill him,” Neil said. “Besides, he still has my switchblade, so I wouldn’t even get my chance.”

Aaron’s face went white.

“He told me he picked it up after I was kidnapped in the woods,” Neil explained offhandedly. “He’s yet to give it back — which is actually one of the reasons why I’m on my way to his chambers. These things are expansive as hell.”

“ _Guards_?” Aaron called over Neil toward the hallway, and Neil straightened in alarm.

“Now, hold on a second —“

“ _Guards, there’s an intruder in here!_ ”

Neil looked over his shoulder and blanched at the sight of three massive guards, wearing armour and carrying swords, running toward them. Oh shit. Oh no. He was so screwed, there wasn’t nearly enough time for him to get away —

The guards came to a stop in front of the two, and Neil belatedly realised that he recognised these guys. He’d come across them when he’d walked into the castle, and they’d stopped him before figuring out he was Andrew’s guest. They’d chatted about the weather ( _“That cloud kind of looks like a bunny, doesn’t it?”_ ) before letting him go on.

“Oh, hey Neil,” said one of them, and turned to Aaron. “Where’s the intruder?”

Aaron stared at the guard, then at Neil, who smiled smugly back. “ _You’re_ Neil? You,” he pointed at the guard who’d spoken, “do you know him?”

“He’s Andrew’s guest,” replied that. “We’ve been instructed to let him through unconditionally.”

“But he doesn’t _work_ here,” Aaron said. “He can’t just— come and go— what if he’s dangerous?!”

“I’m not dangerous,” Neil said.

“We go by the instructions,” said the guard. “There’s no reason to suspect a civilian.”

“He isn’t even Clarinesian!”

“Prince Aaron,” said another guard, “do you have an intruder or not?”

“He’s the intruder!” Aaron exclaimed, gesturing at Neil, who just stood there all smugly. “He was conspiring to kill Andrew! With a _switchblade_!”

“I was not!” exclaimed Neil, all smugness evaporating instantly. “I’m getting the switchbladeback for self-defence!”

The guards exchanged whispers before turning to Aaron. “Prince Aaron, if you would allow us, we would like to go back to our posts.”

After a few long seconds of silence, Aaron sighed in defeat and waved his hand. “You can go.”

When the guards went out of hearing range, Aaron glared at Neil. “You’re on the wrong floor.”

“What?”

“Andrew’s chambers are directly below mine,” he said. “So you can get there however the hell you got here, just one floor down.”

“No,” Neil groaned. “Getting here was the worst. Don’t make me do this again.”

“Go home then,” Aaron replied, grabbing the edge of the door to close it. Then Neil noticed the very thing that could salve him, stationed behind Aaron — far, far behind him. “Is that a balcony?”

“What?” Aaron glanced behind his shoulder at the balcony’s glass door, but before he could reply, Neil pushed by him. “Hey, what are you doing? Get out of my chambers!”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Neil replied as he crossed the room, Aaron following him. Neil went out on the balcony and climbed on the stone railing.

“What are you doing?!” Aaron exclaimed, and ran the rest of the distance between them, ready to grab the redhead in case that jumped. _What out of what I’ve said would lead him to such extreme measures?!_ He thought amid his sprouting panic. How would he explain this to Andrew? Nicky said this idiot made him happy! Andrew would kill him!

And then Neil crouched, grabbed the railing, and flung himself over the edge.

Aaron’s heart dropped into his stomach when he reached over the railing and looked down, expecting to see a splotch of red on the ground far, far below. Instead, he was met with a pair of blue eyes looking up at him from where Neil was holding onto the balcony.

“What is wrong with you?!” Aaron exclaimed as Neil started climbing down, legs dangling over the space between the two balconies.

“Shortcut,” replied the redhead. “It wasn’t very nice to meet you, but good riddance. I’ll see you around.”

And he let go of Aaron’s balcony, landing on Andrew’s like a cat. Aaron looked down with wide eyes as Neil walked to Andrew’s balcony-door and knocked; a few moments later the door opened, and Neil disappeared into Andrew’s chambers.

Aaron left the balcony in a daze, thinking it might be a good idea to go lie down for a while.

***

_Later That Week_

Neil was strolling down an aisle in a massive garden. There were thousands of different plants at every direction he looked; stretching over the horizon, flowers blooming or displaying an impressive arsenal of prickles and leaves. Looking down at the open textbook he was holding, he categorised the different species, scribbling down notable things that were missing from the text.

He stopped and crouched before two red flower patches. The plants were already halfway blossoming, but some of them lagged behind — their petals were saggy and their hue desaturated, painted a sickly pink. Putting down the textbook in his lap, Neil reached over to touch one of the flowers, almost as if to comfort it.

“I’m fine,” said the flower, and Neil yelped and jerked back, the textbook falling to the pavement beside him. The flower straightened itself, as if to look at Neil, and radiated annoyance. “I don’t need you to caress me like a sobbing child.”

“I— I—“ Neil grabbed his textbook and flipped to the flower’s page, frantically skimming through it. The textbook said absolutely nothing about the flower being able to talk. What was he supposed to do when that happened? How was it even possible? Neil has seen many strange things in his life, but even he had to admit that this… this took the cake. By a _mile_.

“Besides, I do find it rather rude,” continued the flower, “to go around touching things without permission. How would you feel if you were awakened from a sweet dream by someone touching you? Huh? Huh? Do you have _any_ idea how long it took me to fall asleep?” The flower let out a vehement sigh. “Three hundred years thrown out of the window!”

“Three hundred years?!” Neil exclaimed, skimming through the page once again. “It says here that shigure flowers live up to seven years, and that’s in case they’re healthy and raised in the right environment. You…” Neil glanced at the flower’s saggy petals.

“I’m fine,” snapped the flower. “Just a little tired. Three hundred years will do that to a flower. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to sleep.”

“But —“

The flower’s head slouched, and it fell quiet, once again a flower like all the flowers in the garden.

But when Neil looked up, he was surprised to see there were no other flowers in the garden anymore. It looked like a hurricane has swept through the place while he’d been conversing; all the plants were either crushed, ripped apart or yanked out of the soil. Neil climbed to his feet, clutching the textbook to his side, and walked around himself to observe the damage. Nothing was left.

It was all gone.

“No, no, no,” Neil said in a small voice, not daring to move further. The entire garden was destroyed — every last living plant.

“Gingerbread,” said a voice from beneath him, and Neil looked down to see the flower awake once again — only now it was withering away, its petals not desaturated but outright crunchy and rotting. Neil stifled a squeak. “Look at what you’ve done.”

“It wasn’t me,” Neil said, but the flower shook its head disapprovingly, petals falling off with the movement.

“You were tasked with taking care of the garden,” it said. “And now we’re all dead. Because of you.”

“No,” Neil said. The flower crumbled to ash in front of him, but its voice carried in the wind.

“Gingerbread,” it said, as if from afar. “Neil. Wake up.”

Neil jerked awake, his head hitting something with a sharp _crack_. His hands flew to his head and he squinted at the sudden yellow light.

It took him a few moments to register where he was. He was sat by a wooden table; a tattered, leather-bound book lied open in front of him, displaying the shigure flower page, accompanied by illustrations and narrow lines of text. Neil vaguely recognised his own handwriting at the margins.

The thing he’d hit his head on was an oil lamp. Neil patted his head again, wincing at the small, sharp pain that shot through his skull.

“Interesting studies?” Andrew said from behind him, and Neil responded by lightly hitting his head against the textbook. He resigned to stay like this until the end of time.

“How long have you been studying?” Andrew asked, and Neil moved his head so that his cheek was pressed against the page and his eyes caught sight of Andrew’s dimly illuminated figure.

“Approximately three hundred years,” Neil muttered. “What day is it?”

“Thursday,” Andrew said, and Neil sat upright, narrowly avoiding hitting his head against the lamp again.

“ _What_? The exam—“ Neil stood up and began to scour the room for anything that could show him the time, and blanched at the deep, bottomless darkness that came in from the window. Was it evening already? “I _slept_ through the fucking exam?”

“Calm down, plant-junkie,” Andrew said, inspecting his textbook. “The exam should start in a few hours.”

“Are you telling me it’s the middle of the night?”

Andrew hummed, and Neil turned around. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

Andrew hummed again, and Neil narrowed his eyes. “Did Allison send you?”

“No,” Andrew replied. Neil’s eyes narrowed further.

“Allison sent you,” he concluded. “I told her I was fine. She’s just fussing, thinking I’m studying too much. I mean, come _on_ , is there even such a thing as too much plant interaction?”

“Now you really sound like a junkie,” Andrew said.

“And I wasn’t even studying,” Neil continued, ignoring him. “I was sleeping. Which proves my point that I wasn’t studying too much.”

“It would’ve proved your point if you were sound asleep in your bed, under the covers and in your pyjamas, which you weren’t,” Andrew said, and frankly, Neil didn't think he even had any pyjamas. “Instead, I come here to find you drooling over your textbook while having a nightmare and screaming, _no, no, it wasn’t me,_ ” Andrew’s voice pitched in mock imitation.

“I don’t sound like that,” Neil scowled.

“ _I don’t sound like that_.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Neil said, and walked across his small room to sit on what he was convinced was a straw mattress. It was harder than the mattress at the abandoned mansion. “And it wasn’t a nightmare.”

“What was it, then?”

“Well,” Neil allowed himself to fall against the bed, knees bent at the edge and eyes glued to the grey ceiling. “I was having my court-herbalist exam, and this asshole flower started talking to me. Then a hurricane hit and destroyed the garden I was assigned to, and the flower started shaming me, and then it died. I failed the exam.”

There was a long silence between them.

“Isn’t that tragic,” Andrew said, and Neil threw a pillow at him. Andrew caught it without blinking. “Go to sleep, junkie. Properly. Or you’d start hallucinating the plants talking to you when you do the exam.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” Neil muttered. “I need to prepare.”

Andrew threw the pillow back at him. “Go to sleep.”

“Make me.”

Andrew rolled one sleeve and approached the bed with his fist raised. Neil scrambled away from him. “Are you trying to _punch_ me?”

“Yes,” Andrew said, and Neil jumped off the bed, using the pillow as a shield.

“I won’t surrender,” he proclaimed. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Ha,” Andrew said impassively, grabbing the top of the pillow and snatching it away from Neil. He looked him dead in the eye, and Neil looked back without hesitation. Only then, marvelling at the deep hazel of Andrew’s eyes, did Neil realise how close they were; his back was pressed against the wall, and Andrew was standing so close that he could practically hear his heartbeat. Or maybe it was his own.

“Go to sleep,” Andrew told him. “Or I will knock you out.”

Neil didn’t want to be knocked out. Who knew when he’d wake up? With his luck, this time it would actually be after the exam, and there would all his plans and dreams go flying out the window.

What Neil planned to say was, ‘fine.’ What came out instead was, “did anyone ever tell you you’re excessively aggressive?”

“Yes, my therapist,” Andrew said.

“You go to a therapist?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. “Her name’s Bee. You should go talk to her one day.”

Neil scrunched up his nose. “What makes you think that?”

“First of all, your wierd-ass dreams,” Andrew said. “And second—“ he left Neil’s personal space to approach the bed, and picked up the switchblade that rested on the exact same spot where the pillow had been mere minutes ago.

Neil was there in an instant. He snatched his switchblade away from Andrew, who let it go without resistance. “Don’t touch that.”

“Why do you sleep with a knife under your pillow?”

“Why do you constantly wear armbands?” Neil shot back.

“Ohh, that’s personal,” Andrew said, a thin, predatory smile hanging off of his lips.

“Right back gotcha,” Neil replied, shoving the switchblade into his pocket. “I think you should leave.”

Andrew walked over to the door, but halted when he opened it. He looked back at Neil, who picked up the stray pillow and rearranged it on the bed. “No-one’s trying to kill you,” he said, tapping a finger against his own temple. “You’re only a rabbit in your own head.”

“Get out,” Neil said.

When Andrew left, shutting the door behind him, Neil slid down to sit on the floor with his back against the bed-frame. He pulled his switchblade out of his pocket and examined its knife in the dull lamplight, before pulling a smudged handkerchief out of another pocket and cleaning it. He examined it again and sighed, pulling his head back to look at the ceiling.

He didn’t end up sleeping that night.

***

“My name is Dan Wilds,” said the examiner, putting a stack of papers on the table in front of her. The examinees were all sat in two neat rows of tables inside a large library; Neil counted seventeen of them in total. “And today you’ll be taking the exam for the position of an apprentice herbalist at the court of Clarines.”

Neil and Allison exchanged looks.

“Your task is simple,” said Dan, looking between the examinees. “Each one of you will be assigned to a small greenhouse on the castle’s premises. You will look after it for two days, after which you will write me a report. Based on that, I’ll decide who will qualify.”

_That’s it_? Neil thought, and leaned back in his chair. _This sounds easy_.

“Good luck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was Neil's dream a premonition or a mere nightmare? Stay tuned to find out ;) (and thanks for reading!!)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning to an allusion to self harm later in this chapter (one paragraph of Andrew showing his scars).

Aaron’s gaze followed Neil as that crossed the courtyard, trailing the group of examinees on their way to the stretch of small, royal greenhouses that resided in the castle’s premises. The tall, blonde women Neil was walking alongside was dressed way too elegantly to be poor; the fabric of her clothes wasn’t unlike the quality-type Aaron himself wore, and the clicking of her heeled boots echoed across the courtyard and all the way up to the balcony.

Next to her, the cheeky redhead’s clothes seemed even more worn out than they usually did, if that were even possible. After keeping track of the redhead for the better part of the passing week — whilst avoiding Andrew as much as possible, although he did occasionally go in roundabout ways to make sure that the kingdom’s second prince hasn’t been murdered yet — Aaron came to the conclusion that Neil was as common as they came. No money, three variations of the same tattered, washed out outfit, and no permanent home. Seriously — the guy seemed to be living in the cheapest inn in town.

Which made Aaron beg the question: how — and more importantly, _why_ — did he surround himself with so many royals?

Whatever his goal may be, Aaron knew it was no good. And Aaron, being the older, more responsible brother in the royal family, knew he had a job to do. Truth to be told, Aaron’s never thought he’d see the day when Andrew would be caught in anyone’s spell, much less a peasant’s — but that made Neil all the more dangerous. He might kill him; he might raid his brother’s chambers and run off into the sunset. But as the days passed, Aaron’s realised that the redhead had no intention of going anywhere. Which could only mean one thing.

Neil was a freeloader.

Or, at least, he was going to be.

Unless.

Unless Aaron would fulfil his duty as the older, more responsible brother of the royal family, and make sure that the redheaded, lying coward that has latched onto his brother would run off into the sunset, hopefully empty-handed and terrified enough to never come back.

Which was why he was currently caressing his carrier pigeon while scribbling a note on his handkerchief. It was a simple note, holding a simple message. He carefully folded the handkerchief and shoved it into a small, anonymous envelope, and then gave it for his pigeon to grab.

“Send it to Katelyn,” he told the pigeon, and that looked at him with the dumb, empty look that pigeons generally sported as a species. Then he gave the pigeon a little shove, and that went soaring over the courtyard.

_Neil will never pass this exam_ , Aaron thought contently. And then he caught a sight that made him catch the stone railing and lean forward with wide, terrified eyes.

The plan quickly soared out of the metaphorical window as his stupid pigeon soared down the courtyard and landed on Neil’s shoulder.

“No!” Aaron exclaimed, and promptly crouched behind the railing when the redhead looked up. “No, no,” Aaron whispered to himself, holding his head in his hands. “All my ideally constructed plans!”

He dared a glance over the railing and saw, to his absolute horror, that Neil took the envelope from the pigeon, opened it, and started reading.

***

“Use whichever means necessary to make sure success is assured,” Neil read out loud.

“Ohh, maybe Andrew’s wishing you luck,” Allison said. “In his weird, Andrew-ish way.”

“I don’t think so,” Neil said, lifting his eyes from the note to look at her. “We had a fight tonight.”

Allison’s eyebrows rose suggestively. “Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. “We’re kind of… not talking right now.”

“Maybe he’s trying to apologise,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said, although it didn’t sound like he agreed. He looked back down at the note and continued reading. “P.S, meet me in my chambers on Saturday at five p.m.”

“Definitely trying to apologise,” she said.

“I’m making us dinner.”

At that, both their brows creased, and Allison looked over Neil’s shoulder to peep at the note.

“Love you?” she read incredulously.

“It does say it’s from _A_ ,” Neil said, his voice oddly vacant.

They both fell quiet for a moment. Neil folded the handkerchief and looked straight ahead, blinking at nothing, before Allison snatched the note from his slack fingers and skimmed through it. “Maybe it’s someone else’s note, and you just got it by mistake.”

“The pigeon came from his balcony, though,” Neil said, looking back again at where the pigeon came from. Allison followed his gaze.

“Are you sure it’s _his_ balcony? There are a few of them there, and they’re all empty.”

“Pretty sure,” Neil said, scrunching up his face. “I’ve been there a few days ago. But he’s never acted like this.”

“Maybe he’s the type of person that can only express himself through writing,” she suggested. “I’ve had a friend once who had the reputation of the worst possible prick — she never talked, always glared at everyone. It turned out that it was just her resting face, and her poems? Out of this world.”

Neil observed the balconies thoughtfully. “Are you saying that his empty looks are just his nature, then?”

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, but my point it — maybe he’s trying to take the first step at reconciling your relationship.”

Neil took the note back from her and read through it again. “Andrew never apologises, though.”

“That’s the wonder of writing,” she said, her voice tinged dreamy. “Letters can hold all the secret wants of the soul.”

“He also doesn’t want anything.”

“Letters,” she repeated sharply, and Neil jerked, “are the window to the soul. Trust me, little red. I know what I’m talking about.”

Neil mulled it over, reading through the note for the third time with doubt written all over his face. Then he looked up at her supportive expression and caved.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. She beamed at him.

“Of course I am,” she said, and nudged him. “You’ll see. After you pass the exam, you two will talk it out, and before you know it your relationship will be as good as new.”

Neil looked over to Andrew’s balcony. Had he really gone to such measures to express his feelings to Neil? Neil would’ve never guessed that Andrew considered him close enough a friend to say — or rather, write — with such certainty that he loved him. Neil’s never had a friend who loved him. They all used to lie and betray him, if they were ever even there at all.

If their friendship was this important to Andrew, Neil decided, then he would make his own effort to fix it.

But first things first; he had an exam to pass. And so, Neil pocketed the note and lifted his eyes to look ahead, right at his oncoming future.

He barely managed to avoid the second pigeon that went hurtling at him; with a swear and a swipe sideways, he turned his head to look after the pigeon, which went on to fly out of the court with a similar envelope clutched in its claws.

***

Neil was halfway through his exam, and so far, nothing has gone wrong.

He strolled between two thin rows of plants inside the greenhouse. It wasn’t big, and from what Neil understood, it wasn’t the best in the court either, but holy hell if he weren’t in love. Not only were all the plants looking healthy, but the technologies used here — Neil’s heard about aqueducts, used to distribute water to all parts of the garden, but seeing the system in person was a whole different thing.

He scribbled some information in his report and went down to the garden’s base level. He planned on doing another round of inspection down here; the sun has gone down recently, and he wanted to make sure all the plants were still faring well. But as he was about to start, a rustling from the greenhouse’s entrance made him straighten and look back.

It was too dark outside to really see anything from inside the garden. Neil put down the clipboard, pencil shoved under the clips, and cautiously approached the entrance. He stepped outside and looked around, but didn’t see anything unusual except for wild bulks of trees and tall weeds shrouded with darkness.

“What are you doing here so late, junkie?”

Neil jerked, turning to see Andrew leaning against the semi-transparent wall of the greenhouse. “Where the hell did you pop up from?”

Andrew shrugged. “I’m one with the darkness. You haven’t answered my question.”

Neil rolled his eyes and walked back toward the greenhouse’s door. “I’m doing my exam, and you know that. Which, by the way, you aren’t allowed to assist me in, so it’s better that you go before anyone sees you.”

“Everyone’s gone home for the night,” Andrew said. “Are you planning on not sleeping until morning?”

“Why would I, when I get the opportunity to tend to a garden this nice?” Neil said, leaning against the door-frame so that he was looking at Andrew, who still hasn’t moved from his position against the outside of the wall.

They both tensed when another rustle came from the trees, and Neil snapped his head toward the patch of darkness. Andrew drew his sword, and they fell completely quiet, listening.

There was the unmistakable sound of a bow being pulled, and Neil’s gaze zeroed in on the glint of an arrowhead; without wasting his breath he clutched Andrew’s jacket and pulled him into the greenhouse, right before an arrow embedded itself in the wall next to his own head.

“ _No-one’s trying to kill you_ ,” Neil said mockingly as he slammed the greenhouse’s door shut. There was a patter of quick steps, and Andrew stepped forward with his sword raised as Neil pulled out his switchblade and braced himself. But when the silhouette of a person came to a stop in front of the semi-transparent door, instead of opening it, a distinct _click_ echoed throughout the greenhouse, and the silhouette ran away.

Neil and Andrew both straightened, lowering their weapons. Neil pushed the door to open it, but it didn’t budge. “It’s locked.”

“Someone’s trying to sabotage your exam,” said Andrew. Neil sighed and hit his head against the wall.

“Why would anyone do that?” he said. “I’m but an innocent soul, wanting nothing more than to earnestly earn my keep in order to come and go as I wish.”

“Someone probably wants to eliminate the competition.”

“With an arrow to my head?”

Andrew shrugged. “It’s effective.”

Neil sighed and approached his clipboard, which was still resting where he’d left it. If he were stuck in here, he might as well just continue taking care of the garden. Come morning, Dan will come for the final inspection, and she would probably let the two of them out. He was sure that if they explained the situation to her, she’d understand and let it go.

Hopefully.

“Oh,” Neil said, approaching a small patch of yellow flowers. He crouched before them and leaned in to inspect them; they were supposed to face upward at this time of night, but these flowers were saggy, their heads inclined toward the soil. “That’s not good.”

Andrew followed him and looked down at the flower patch. “Is something wrong?”

“Their environment is ideal,” Neil said, gesturing around him. “But for some reason, the flowers are listless.” He got up to his feet and leaned across the flower patch to cup a handful of water. He sniffed it, then tasted it. His eyes widened. “The water’s sweet.”

Andrew looked after him curiously as he skidded up the stairs to the upper rows and tasted the water that ran between the plants there. “Here it’s normal,” Neil said, more to himself. He walked back down the stairs, looking thoughtfully between the aqueducts. “There must be toxins in the water down here.”

Andrew halted. “And you drank that?”

“It doesn’t affect people,” Neil said dismissively, crouching once again in front of the yellow flower patch. “But the flowers… There’s a type of sweet toxin that some plants can release, but they aren’t grown here. There must be some other plant that’s contaminating the water.”

He scoured the base-level of the garden. Which of these herbs could be releasing such toxins? They were all planted and raised properly.

His eyes halted on the shigure flower patch, and he walked over to them. What if…?

He uprooted one of the shigure plants and broke a piece of its root, biting it between his teeth. Sweet. “It’s Yura,” he said, turning to Andrew, who’s followed him. “There are two types of shigure plants — Yura and Ageki, but it’s hard to tell the difference before they bloom. These were raised in an environment for Ageki, not Yura.”

“So they were planted wrong?” Andrew said.

“Yeah,” Neil said. “Now, instead of flowering properly, they’re releasing toxins in their roots.” He looked over to the water flowing in the aqueducts. “And they’re contaminating the water. If they keep on releasing these toxins… half the flowers in this garden will wither.”

Neil regarded the plants for a moment, before rolling up his sleeves. “Andrew, close the aqueducts for this floor. I’m going to replant these."

“It will affect your results,” Andrew said. “If I help you. You’d fail the exam.”

“Yep,” Neil said. “But I have to do this. Otherwise the plants will die, and I can’t have that. Will you help me?”

Andrew was quiet for a few moments. “What will you give me in return?”

Neil regarded him with a long look. He knew he was going to regret this later, but right now, he had more important things to worry about. “A truth,” he said.

Andrew’s eyes glinted in interest, and he walked over to shut the aqueducts.

They started to work.

***

By the time the sun came out, Neil was sprawled against the greenhouse’s wall, covered in dirt and huffing quietly. Andrew was sitting next to him, elbow resting against his knee and the other leg outstretched in front of him. There was a dirt stain on his left cheek and his hair has taken to one shade darker.

The garden had been meticulously dug up and replanted. After replanting the shigure flowers with new soil, Neil had decided that it would be best to replace the soil for the rest of the first-floor plants as well, to get rid of the toxins completely. While it had taken him enough hefty work to have blown his arms out, Andrew, the little bastard, didn’t even look out of breath.

“Why do you sleep with a knife under your pillow?” Andrew asked, and Neil’s breath hitched.

“It used to keep me alive,” he said, staring straight ahead. “There used to be people after me. Bad people.” _My father’s people_ , he didn’t say. “If I ever let my guard down, I ended up paying for it with my blood. So I got used to it. Now I can’t sleep without knowing there’s a weapon near me, even though a couple years have passed since the last time I actually needed it.”

From the corner of his eye, Neil saw Andrew tugging at his armbands. He pulled off a glove, and then the armband itself. Neil’s eyes widened at the thin scars crisscrossing his forearm, but just as quickly as the armband came off, it was pulled back on. Andrew caught his gaze. “I don’t want people to see these.”

“Then why did you show me?” Neil said.

“Truth for a truth.”

Neil frowned. “It wasn’t my turn.”

“You’ll pay me back,” said Andrew. “Later.”

“On Saturday?” Neil asked, and Andrew’s brow creased minutely. “You said you wanted me to meet you on Saturday evening.”

Andrew was quiet for a moment. “When did I say that?”

“On the letter.”

At Andrew’s raised eyebrow, Neil pulled the folded handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to him. Andrew unfolded it and read it, his face going completely blank for a few seconds, before he threw the handkerchief back at a startled Neil. “It’s Aaron’s handwriting.”

“ _Aaron’s_?” Neil read through the note again. “I wasn’t aware he liked me that much.”

“It’s for his parasite of a girlfriend,” Andrew said, and Neil blinked.

“But the pigeon came to me.”

“Aaron is the only one in the court who communicates via pigeons,” Andrew said with a sneer. “He thinks he’s avoiding my judgement this way. What, did you think I was declaring love to you?”

Neil folded the note and discreetly shoved it into his pocket. “…No.”

The sound of the door unlocking salvaged Neil from the sense of eternal shame that threatened to consume him, and he perked at the newcomer. “Dan!”

Dan sidestepped an empty sack of soil and observed the garden, before landing her gaze on Neil and Andrew. “Prince Andrew, what are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain later,” Andrew said dismissively.

“And what happened?” she asked Neil, who smiled sheepishly.

“I made it so that the shigure plants would flower,” he said. “They were mistakingly planted as Ageki, so I replanted them.”

“All of them?” Dan said incredulously. “It looks like the entire garden has been replanted.”

“Yeah…” Neil’s voice trailed.

“And you did it all in one night?” Her face looked impressed. But then her eyes narrowed, skidding between the two boys. “Don’t tell me the prince helped you.”

“Maybe he did,” Neil said. “But someday, one of these herbs might save his life. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?”

Dan snickered, covering her mouth with her hand, before nodding approvingly. “I understand the situation, so I won’t disqualify you. One of the examinees saw an intruder last night; he must’ve locked the door.”

_And almost shot me with an arrow,_ Neil thought bitterly.

“Prince Andrew, will you leave the resolution of the matter to me?” Dan turned to Andrew, who regarded her carelessly.

“I know who it is,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“If you insist,” she sighed. “However, Neil, you should be aware that your friendship with the prince has its appropriate time and place, and neither of these were here or tonight.”

“I came here on my own,” Andrew said.

“And I can’t question that,” said Dan. “On your command, Neil could unconditionally be made a court-herbalist. If that’s what you want.”

“I want nothing.”

Dan blinked, and looked down at the paper she was holding. “Anyway, the task was actually to distinguish that the wrong shigure flower has been planted,” she told Neil. “Which you’ve clearly done. That means we officially accept you as an apprentice court-herbalist.”

A smile broke onto Neil’s face, and he shot Andrew a triumphant glance. Andrew seemed like he couldn’t care less, but Neil saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“Be at the pharmacy tomorrow morning,” Dan said, turning to leave. “You’ll be starting immediately.”

“Ay-ay, captain,” said Neil with a salute. Dan stifled a smile and left them to themselves.

“You’ll never get rid of me now,” Neil told Andrew.

“Unless you decide to run someday.”

“I won’t,” Neil said. “I don’t have a reason to run anymore.”

“Once a runner, always a runner,” Andrew replied. “I’ll see if I believe you. Maybe after I collect what I’m owed.”

“And when will that be?”

Andrew considered this. “I’ll tell you.”

When they got up to leave, Neil couldn’t help but feel somehow freed. Terrified, but freed; here he was, having found himself a place to stay. He wasn’t sure yet if this would be a forever place — with him, there was always the possibility of leaving — but at least he could settle for a little while. Or a long while. Anyway, he wasn’t planning on leaving without having paid his debt.

And that was completely in Andrew’s hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading!! I love reading your comments, they make my heart happy. Sorry for the brief angst; generally I don't plan for this fic to get heavy, but I thought they needed to pour their hearts out at least a little bit just 'cause. Anyways I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

Back flat against the wall inside a small alcove, Neil was starting to seriously doubt his life decisions. He glanced over the corner at the figure he’s been tailing, mindful to make no noise and blend into the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. The figure made no signs of having noticed him; furthermore, he looked to the side opposite Neil conspicuously, before opening the door to a supply closet and slipping inside, closing it behind him with a soft _click_.

“He thinks he’s being sneaky,” said Matt from where he was propped next to Neil, looking over the latter’s red head at the now-closed door.

“What’s he doing in there?” Neil asked. “Is he on cleaning duty?” _Or is he hiding a body?_ Even though he hasn’t seen the figure’s face, Neil knew suspicious behaviour when he saw it, and his heart accelerated at the thought of having come to near contact with yet another psychopath.

Matt snickered above him, and Neil lifted his head so that the top of his hair brushed again Matt’s chin. “Wait for it.”

A loud _thump_ came from the supply closet, as if someone was thrown against a wall, and Neil straightened out of reflex. Matt moved aside, neatly avoiding having his teeth bashed in as he leaned against the wall.

“Is he killing someone?” Neil whispered.

“Nah,” Matt said. “He’s committing yet another sin entirely.”

Neil turned to look at his newly assigned mentor with narrow eyes. It was hard to distinguish his expression in the lacklustre lighting, but it was nowhere near as grave as Neil’s heart was. Were murders a common thing around here? Because if so, Neil was bound for a relocation, preferably yesterday.

Something metallic clattered inside the supply closet, followed by a yelp, and Neil’s gaze snapped back to the door. “Should we call someone?”

“We’re all pretending like we don’t know,” Matt said. “It makes them feel better about themselves.”

Neil couldn’t grasp how someone could feel better about themselves being murdered in either situation. And it’s been happening _repeatedly_? What kind of royal court has Neil landed himself in?

Would he have been better off in Tanbarun, after all?

“We should get out of here,” Matt said, gently shoving Neil out of the alcove. “Before he sees us, and makes us pay.”

Neil’s blood ran cold as he let himself be ushered away.

***

_Three Hours Prior_

Neil ran a hand over his hair as he halted in front of the entrance to the Clarinesian medical wing. He was wearing his nice shirt, a button-up with a strict collar and a suspicious off-white colour, which was courtesy of either fashion or other endeavours. Otherwise, he looked the exact same way he has for the last couple of weeks, because he would be caught dead before wasting his precious money on clothes when he was already wearing something perfectly presentable.

He wasn’t nervous. Not at all. Swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet, Neil ran his hand through his locks again. He was just giving _them_ time to prepare for his killer personality. _Pffft_ , what do mean he was _stalling_? Neil didn’t do stalling. Neil was a person of dignity; he would face any challenge head-on. He was a man of no fears — a fearless man, one could say. He’s looked death in the eye and has dared walk away.

This analogy brought him to an obvious conclusion; he worried his lip for a moment, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Only to come face to face with one grinning Dan Wilds. “Neil! You’re right on time.”

“Oh, hey, Dan,” Neil said, using his turn-momentum to awkwardly prop himselfagainst the nearest wall. Inconspicuous; a man of trickery and disguise. On top of everything else. “I was just admiring the architecture.”

“Mm, it is quite unique around these parts,” Dan said as she walked past him, fumbling with a ring of keys. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. You’re the first one here.”

“Nah,” Neil said. “It’s okay.”

She shot him another smile as she opened the door, gesturing for him to follow her. He admired the architecture for a few additional, lingering seconds before entering the room after her.

It was smaller than he’d expected it to be. Dan walked across the room and pulled the curtains open, letting in a stream of sunlight that momentarily blinded Neil; when he adjusted, he gave the room a once-over, noting the mahogany desk and wooden chair, the bunkbed — for patients, he assumed — and the rows of shelves containing books over books of what Neil guessed was botany and medicine. To his right was an open door, and a peek through it showed him a small, yet cozy-looking kitchen. An identical door stood to his left, but it was closed.

“How do you like it?” Dan said, reading through a stack of papers laying on the mahogany desk.

“It’s small,” said Neil, absently holding his hand on top of his satchel. “I thought the medical wing would be more…”

“Impressive?” smiled Dan, looking up at him from the papers. “Most newbies say that. Heck, I’ve thought that. But you’ll be surprised to find out we rarely spend much time here at all.”

“You take care of the greenhouses,” Neil guessed, and she nodded.

“That we do. We mostly only use the lab around here.”

“Lab?”

Dan gestured her head toward the closed door do his left. Then she perked, and strode over with the ring of keys in hand. “We usually lock it, just in case. Sensitive substances and all.”

Neil peeked over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and pushed it open to reveal an ordinary-looking lab. In the center of it stood two long metallic tables, and the walls were lined with shelves housing boxes and jars, not unlike those he had — used to have — in his own shop. Posters of information decorated the walls, reciting simple yet important botanical facts. What made him halt, however, was a row of devices he didn’t recognise, standing by the far wall.

Dan seemed to notice his hesitance, since what she said next was, “don’t worry, we’ll teach you how to use them. Most of them aren’t too complicated; they make our job a little less daunting.”

“I’ve never even seen these before,” he said. “Not in the textbooks, or anywhere.”

“They’re prototypes,” she explained. “Quite revolutionary, in fact. We’re still testing them out. Sooner or later, I assume they’d be released for public use — but for now, they’re…”

“Exclusive.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Neil observed the devices for a long moment, eyes flattering over the parts and the cogs, trying to figure out the mechanism from afar. They really didn’t seem that complicated. Devices to crush berries and grind leaves; something that seemed to serve the purpose of blending substances. Things that did the annoying jobs for you.

There were a few devices — machines, rather — that seemed intricate. They were bigger and looked much heavier, and Neil couldn’t figure out their function from a simple look. What purpose did they serve? If Neil hadn’t known better, he would say they looked like they were from the future.

He was rudely pulled out of his insightful, concentrated internal narration by a pitched call from behind them, which made him and Dan them turn with a start. “Dan, you would _not_ believe what just happened —“

Neil blinked at the newcomer, who fell silent when he noticed him. He was a tall, dark man with spiky hair and starkly white teeth, and the eyes of an excited puppy. “Oh! You’re that insane guy, aren’t you?”

“I don’t…” Neil’s brow furrowed. The man’s grin widened, oddly reminiscent of Dan’s smile.

“You re-did the entire garden. Dan’s told me about you,” he said. “You were there when the intruder tried to assassinate the prince.”

“The intruder tried to assassinate _him_ ,” Dan told the man with a low voice, leading to an almost comical shift in his expression — his eyes widened, eyebrows jerking upright.

“He didn’t try to _assassinate_ me,” Neil said. “I’m not nearly anyone enough for that.”

Now the man’s expression saddened, making Neil want to fade into the wall far behind him. “Oh, my son, my man, don’t say that,” he rambled, drawing Neil into a hug. Neil stilled completely, staring at the man’s chest as that pulled away and put his hands on Neil’s shoulders, as if to reassure him. “You’re very much a someone.”

“I meant that I’m not a royal,” replied Neil. “Killing me would just qualify as murder.”

“Ohh,” said the man and Dan simultaneously.

“Technicalities, am-I-right?” laughed the man. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Neil,” replied Neil dryly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Now that I’m taking you under my wing, we’re gonna be best-buds,” grinned Matt, wrapping an arm over Neil’s shoulder. Way to make him feel smaller, Neil thought bitterly, stifling the pout that threatened to come onto his face. Then he processed what Matt had said and tilted his head.

“Under you wing?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re my apprentice,” supplied Matt. “I might not look like it, but I’m a lead court herbalist, along with Dan. Have been for a few years now.”

“How long am I going to be…” chaperoned? “…under your wing?”

“Until you spread your wings and learn to fly,” replied Matt, earning a blank look. He sighed, his grip on Neil’s shoulder slackening. “Generally, it’s a six-month period.”

“Ah.”

“Neil Josten!” exclaimed a new, familiar voice from the pharmacy’s entrance. The three looked to see Allison walking inside, high and mighty with her heeled boots and attitude.

“Allison!” called Dan, running across the room to hug the girl. Allison hugged her back just as tightly, burying her chin in her friend’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Sorry,” laughed Allison. “I’ve been busy kidnapping people in the woods. Kinda filled up my schedule for a while.”

“She has,” said Neil. “Kidnapped people, that is. One person, at least. Probably more. Anyway, how do you two know each other?”

“We went to the same academy,” said Allison. “Dan ended up graduating before me and scored the best job in the kingdom, as you can see.”

“All while you’ve been running around sacrificing chickens?”

“Yeah, that,” drawled Allison, breaking up her hug with Dan. Dan looked at her with bemused mirth in her eyes.

“I can’t tell if you two are joking or not,” she said.

“Eh,” Neil said. “Maybe we are, maybe we’re not. What matters in the end is that no-one’s been sold to anyone.”

“And that you make killer tea,” added Allison.

“Which shouldn’t be given to kidnappers, because a reward like that makes them think they’ve had a point somewhere along their thought process,” said Neil. “Hypothetically speaking.”

Allison hummed in agreement. “Hypothetically.”

“Right,” Matt’s voice trailed. “So, Neilio, are you ready for a tour?”

“A what? And don’t call me that.”

“We have to give you guys a tour,” said Dan. “You’d get lost trying to figure out this castle by yourselves. Whomever built this place was either drunk, high or plain crazy when he’d planned it.”

“It’s a miracle you two made it here,” agreed Matt.

“The instructions were pretty straightforward,” Neil said. Straightforward, they were. As straightforward as turning right when one saw a blue vase with red dots and… “I haven’t gotten lost again or anything.”

“I have,” perked Allison. “That’s why I was so late, by the way.”

“Thanks for leaving me to do this alone, if we’re already on the topic,” Neil said.

“I have an excuse; I’ve just used it.”

“And I thanked you,” Neil smiled, baring teeth. Allison rolled her eyes and grabbed Dan’s forearm.

“Dan and I are off to explore the castle,” she announced. “Pick some flowers, make some drugs… _prescription_ drugs,” she stressed at Neil’s raised eyebrow. “Have fun, boys. Don’t break anything.”

“Excuse me,” Matt said, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m a responsible adult. I don’t just randomly break things.”

“The vase,” Dan said.

“It was _one_ time.”

“And Andrew nearly hanged you for it.”

“He did _not_ ,” Matt said with a dismissive wave. “Please, that chip is the only reason anyone manages to find his chambers.”

“Not that anyone would want to,” Allison added, before her gaze halted on Neil. “Mostly.”

Neil glared at her, but the blonde had dragged Dan out of the pharmacy before he could retort. That left him alone with Matt, standing at the threshold of a darkened lab.

“So…”

“We should get going.”

Matt nodded enthusiastically and they walked out of the pharmacy, before realizing something important was missing. “Uh, did Dan leave you the keys?”

Neil glanced behind him at the half-open door. “Maybe we should leave it like this.”

They exchanged looks, silently agreeing to pretend they’ve never remembered they needed to lock the doors, and began their tour.

***

_Back to The Present_

“Is this a supply-closet tour now?”

“I mean,” Matt said from the yet new dark corner they were perched in, looking at the figure as it slipped away from a group of guards to get into the yet new supply-closet, probably looking to get rid of another dead body. Or to make one. Make a living person dead, that is; not to make a fake dead body. That would be nonsensical. “They _are_ positioned at strategically important spots in the castle."

They barely spared a glance at the massive ballroom positioned far to their right. Its large, fancy doors were wide open, revealing an abandoned dance-floor and an empty elevated porch. It was the middle of the day, after all; not nearly late enough to get lost in a drink and a dance.

They looked on at the door of the supply closet as another person stepped away from the next group of guards and slipped into the very same supply closet. A few minutes later, the first figure came out and disappeared into the hallway, and all was ominously quiet.

“Let’s move on to the next stop,” said Matt, breaking into the hallway from the dark corner. Neil followed him, eyes lingering on the supply-closet’s door, noting that the second guard hasn’t come back out. It was but additional proof to Neil’s theory for the existence of a serial killer, acting and possibly residing in the various castle’s supply closets — a theory which he fittingly dubbed _The Mystery of the Killer in the Supply Closet;_ TMTKTSC for short, or MKSC for shorter, because the mess of T’s representing the _the_ ’s felt somewhat redundant to him. He might rework that title later.

If he made it out alive.

Neil and Matt moved from dark corner to dark corner, inadvertadley following the figure’s path across the castle as he closet-hopped. They’ve somehow hit every single place Matt had wanted to show Neil, and if Neil were being frank, mapping out the castle based on its supply closets was much less confusing than navigating it by its vase layout.

By sundown, they’ve staked out the entire castle and some of its exterior premises, and were ready to come back to the pharmacy.

“You go on ahead,” Matt said as they approached the medical wing's building. “I’ll bribe the cook to make us some sandwiches. Are you a Nutella guy or a lettuce guy?”

Neil crinkled his nose at the mention of Nutella. “Lettuce.”

“A lettuce sandwich it is.”

“What—no,” Neil objected. “You can’t make a sandwich out of just lettuce. That wouldn’t be a sandwich. It’s like a hotdog with just the ketchup and the bun.”

Matt hung back, considering. “What do you want, then?”

“I dunno,” Neil shrugged. “Pastrami?”

“Roger that.”

“But with lettuce.”

“Dude, make up your mind,” Matt huffed with a smile.

“A sandwich can multitask,” Neil said, counting ingredients on his fingers. “Pastrami, lettuce, whole grain bread.”

“Okie,” said Matt. “The cook will definitely be thrilled to know we got someone who isn’t trying to kill himself with sweets, unlike _some_ people.”

Neil frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Matt waved a hand in disregard. “While I’m bringing the sandwiches, can you do me a favour?” Neil nodded. “There’s a medicine Dan’s left in the lab to finish making. It’s just mixing some fluids — there should be a list somewhere in there. Could you finish that?”

Neil nodded again. “That’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

Matt beamed at him and waved him goodbye as he crossed the lawn, heading back toward the kitchens.

Neil went inside to find the door to the pharmacy unlocked. His heartbeat spiked in alarm, but then he remembered that he and Matt have left it like that, and have subsequently agreed to forget about it — which, and how exactly was beyond him, has worked. Neil let out a quiet sigh and entered the pharmacy.

With the curtains pulled open from before, faint dusk-light infiltrated into the room from the windows, allowing Neil to navigate the place. He found Dan’s supply list and instructions, along with an uncapped vial of a green fluid, and stalked into the lab.

The lab, as opposed to the pharmacy’s main room, was dark. There were no windows, and what little light came in from the main room allowed Neil to distinguish shapes but not to see anything clearly. He navigated to a table on which sat an oil lamp, set down the vial and lit the lamp. Then, with the lamp in one hand and the vial in the other, he made his way to the lab’s supply closet, which was stationed at the back.

He opened the supply closet’s door, mentally going over his needed list of supplies, only to be met with two blinking pairs of eyes. The eyes belonged to people; two people, in fact, one of which was _Nicky_ — who were entangled together against the shelves.

Neil froze, paling. The serial killer; how could he not have thought about that? This was a supply closet! The killer’s playground! He was going to _die_!

But they were — well, they were alive, both of them. And if Neil was being honest with himself, it didn’t look like either of them was in the process of murdering the other. The stranger — Neil realised that he recognised him as the guard who hasn’t walked out of the supply-closet by the ballroom — was shirtless.

“Ohh,” Neil said, voice trailing. That would explain why everyone was so casual about the murders.

There were no murders to begin with.

“Neil,” grinned Nicky innocently. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I would hope not,” said the shirtless stranger. He and Nicky had yet to pull away from each other, both of them still as motionless as Neil. “I’m Erik.”

“Neil,” said Neil flatly. “You—uh—I’m—I need to take something…”

“Your vial is on fire,” said Nicky.

“What?” Neil looked down at the vial and saw, to his absolute horror, that it was on fire. Reflex had him dropping it, and the vial shuttered against the floor of the supply-closet with a sharp _crack_.

For a split second, time slowed down.

The three boys looked as the green fluid that splashed across the ground caught fire, and suddenly Nicky was yelping and Erik was pulling him out of the closet, Neil stumbling back as he slammed the door shut to cage the fire inside. By the distinctive crackle, he guessed the fire caught up to the shelves; a beat passed and his eyes widened as the realisation hit him, head snapping toward the closet's door.

What kind of an idiot _was_ he, for fuck’s sake?!

“Get out!” he screamed at Nicky and Erik and took off himself, leaving the lamp on the table as he fled the room behind the pair. “The closet’s full of flammables!”

“Fuck!” Nicky yelled, sprinting out of the pharmacy with Erik on his heels. Neil halted to close the lab’s door behind him in a flimsy attempt to contain the fire; and just as he turned around and stepped across the pharmacy’s threshold, the laboratory exploded behind him, throwing him through the open door and into the hallway in a hot, fiery blast.

Neil’s head knocked against the floor, and he curled in on himself, arms protecting his head as flecks and small pieces of debris flew over him, littering the ground around him.

A hot few seconds of confusion washed over him, until he realised that by some miracle, none of the debris had hit him. He scrambled to stand and turned to look back at the destroyed pharmacy. Flames flared from inside, illuminating the mess that became of the room; all the documents were on fire, and fluids and substances littered the ground between pieces of debris and concrete, no doubt from the wall of the laboratory that has been blown to pieces.

Neil heard a faint thud behind him and turned around. Matt was standing there, Nicky and Erik whole and unharmed beside him, staring at what was left of the pharmacy. A bag was splayed at his feet, hints of sandwiches in clear containers peaking out at Neil.

Matt looked from the destruction to the redhead. “What the hell did I miss?”

“Technically, it’s not my fault,” Neil said.

“Well… _contextually_ it isn’t,” said Nicky. “If we’re being purely technical, it’s you who dropped the flaming vial.”

“The flaming. Vial.”

Ah. Fuck.

Neil managed an apologetic smile at Dan, who came to a stop behind Matt with her arms crossed and staring daggers at the redhead. Allison was standing next to her, eyes fixed on the flames. “It was an accident,” Neil croaked.

Dan sighed and shook her head.

“What a way to mess up on your first day, Little Red,” Allison said, taking her eyes off the fire. “You couldn’t wait at least, I don’t know, a week?”

“Nicky and Erik were making out in there,” Neil said defensively. “They scared the crap out of me!”

“Dude,” said Nicky. “Way to call us out.”

“Neil, I told you they were doing that,” Matt said. “We literally followed them for the whole day.”

Nicky spluttered. “You _knew_?”

“Honey, everyone knew,” said Allison.

“No, excuse me, who are you?” Nicky said, his voice pitching in disbelief. “Erik, can you believe this?”

“They were humouring you,” said Erik, and Nicky stumbled back with a hand clutching the shirt over his heart.

“So we were making out in closets all this time for _nothing_?!”

“I wouldn’t say for nothing.”

“I can’t believe this!” Nicky exclaimed. “I thought you guys were my friends!”

“We are,” Matt said. “Why else would we ignore you doing all that?”

“Fuck, does Andrew know? Does Aaron?”

“What part of _everyone knew_ do you not understand?” Allison snickered. “The princes are busy with their own lovebirds, anyway. They don’t care.”

“Andrew has a lovebird?” Neil interrupted. “Since when?”

The hallway fell quiet for a moment, and Allison quirked an eyebrow at Neil. Then, when he quirked an inquiring eyebrow back, she sighed and shook her head. “Forget it, Little Red.”

“Neil,” said Dan, bypassing him to glance into the ruined pharmacy. “Were the devices in there when the lab blew up?”

Neil frowned. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Five voices — all those present beside Neil’s — groaned.

“What?” Neil said, growing more confused by the second. “You can get new ones, can’t you? You have the money.”

“No, we can’t,” Dan sighed. “These were the only prototypes manufactured.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Neil.

“I can only hope that the planning and model files were still inside the supply-closet,” she said, half to herself. “We built the closet off reinforced materials in case something like this ever happened.”

“Uh,” Neil said, and Dan’s gaze snapped to him, turning murderous.

“ _Uh_?” she repeated. A shudder went through Neil’s spine, and his mouth went dry.

“There _is_ backup for that, right?” he said. Yep. No spit. “You can’t have possibly stored all the files in the supply closet.”

“No, no, we did,” she said, sliding to the ground. Matt hurried to her side to comfort her. “There’s no backup. Well, there is, but it was stored in the pharmacy’s main room… which is, well, on fire.”

“Well done, Neil,” Allison said, patting his shoulder. “You have single-handedly set the technological advancements of the medicine world back by a decade.”

Neil only gazed ahead in despair.

***

A few days later, Neil, Dan, Matt and Allison were sitting in their temporary makeshift pharmacy. That’s to say — they were sitting in a tent in the lawn outside the medical wing, which was now completely under repairs following the explosion.

“Okay,” said Dan, sorting through newly created files. “Because you,” she gestured at Neil and Allison, “are apprentices, you’ll be given simpler roles for now until you get the hang of the work around here. Allison, I’m assigning you to manage the central royal greenhouses; you’ll be taking care of the herbs and plants, and collect their products.”

“Awesome,” Allison grinned. Neil leaned forward, excited to hear what his job was going to be.

Dan looked Neil dead in the eye as she spoke. “Neil, you’ll be grinding the products, so that they’ll be usable for mixing and creating medicine.”

“ _What_ ,” Neil said. “That’s not fair! It—it—it’s _boring_. Allison gets to take care of the _central royal greenhouses,_ and I get to crush herbs?”

“Seeing as you destroyed all the machinery that used to do that,” Dan said, her voice even and her gaze daring him to look away, “I thought it a fitting reward that you’ll do their job instead.”

Neil opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He dropped his head. “Fine.”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Matt said lightly, patting him on the back. “It’s not forever.”

Neil groaned in reply, cursing his stupid fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, blow things up, am I right? I hope you enjoyed this clusterfuck of a chapter, and thank you so much for reading and commenting and giving kudos <3 it all makes me so happy.


	7. Chapter 7

Neil was sitting on a cushion on the ground of his temporary work-tent. His chin was cradled in his hand, elbow perched against the low table and his back slumped; the other hand was holding a pestle, wearily crushing leaves in the mortar that’s become his best friend since the explosion.

He blinked himself awake. All he’s ever wanted was a peaceful existence — but this wasn’t just peaceful, it was plain boring. It seemed that his bad luck has dragged itself through the wringer and into a corner, as so much has gone wrong lately that there was simply nothing left to ruin.

_Unless this tent spontaneously caught fire_ , Neil thought bitterly. He wasn’t one to complain, really; any activity not involving mortal peril and his crazy mafia family — or other mafia families, he wasn’t excluding — was more than welcome. It was just that he was so bored that he could feel his bones drying.

He glanced at the sack of yet-to-be-crushed plants at the corner of the tent and scowled at them.

“Knock knock,” said someone from outside. There was a brief pause, after which the person — a girl, her voice pitchy — added, “I would knock non-verbally, but your tent doesn’t have a door. And I don’t want to come across as rude.”

“…Come in,” replied Neil. He straightened half-heartedly, letting go of the pestle. “I guess.”

A blonde, cheerful-looking girl which Neil has never seen in his life came in. “Neil! It’s so good to see you alive.”

“That’s… specific.”

“I want to start by saying that I’m sorry,” she said, dropping into a cross-legged position on the other side of the table. “I didn’t try to kill you, I swear.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed. “That’s also specific.”

“I was just trying to scare you,” she continued, either unaware or disregarding of the growing caution invading his face. “Maybe the method I picked was a little too violent, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do it at the dead of night, but Aaron says it makes me more mysterious. Alluring, if you will. You know how he is.”

Neil’s jaw unhinged. “I’m not following.”

“I just don’t think it’s a plausible cause for murder,” she explained, rather unhelpfully.

“I guess.” Neil still wasn’t following. “When did you say you were trying to kill me?”

“I wasn’t!” she exclaimed. “I swear I wasn’t. Just please tell Andrew to back the _heck_ off, before someone loses a head for absolutely no reason at all. He isn’t listening to me _or_ to Aaron, so I figured, maybe if you talked to him… Since you two are so close.”

“What does Andrew have to do with this?” Neil said. “And what exactly is this — _this_ — that we’re talking about? When did you violently try to kill me in the dead of night?” Sure, Neil was used to violence and threats on his life, but he didn’t think he’s reached that point where he would actively start forgetting when things like that happened. Not to mention that he’s never seen this girl before — or at least, he didn’t _think_ he has. He would remember a young, chatty girl violently trying to kill him, wouldn’t he?

Wouldn’t he?

“I already told you, he tried to kill Aaron!”

“ _What_?” Andrew’s tired to kill someone without _telling_ him about it?

“Neil,” said the girl impatiently, “I’m starting to think you’re not following me.”

“No, I’m not,” replied Neil. “Maybe you should start with some context.”

“You don’t remember?” she asked, her voice tinged disbelief. “I shot at you with an arrow. At your exam.”

“That was _you_?” He inched away from the table, glancing at the tent’s entrance. Did anyone else know she was here? That night, his attacker — this girl, apparently? — had been identified as an intruder. Did she come back to finish the job?

“Yes, Aaron asked me to,” she explained.

Neil blinked at her, his mind going blank for a full five seconds before restarting. “Did he now.”

“It’s complicated,” she said, “but long story short is that I didn’t try to kill you — the road to heaven’s paved with good intentions, right?—“

“Hell, actually.”

"—and Andrew’s over-exaggerating and taking it out on my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend,” repeated Neil blandly. “Your boyfriend Aaron?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Katelyn, isn’t it,” he sighed. It all suddenly made sense. The obscure handkerchief note; the arrow — which could’ve totally killed him, by-the-fucking-way — and the girl’s rambling. Yeah, he could see why Andrew was overreacting. Did it mean Neil condoned murder? Well, considering Aaron’s tried to have him _killed —_ yes, absolutely; but considering Neil was now living under the humble hand of the law, inside the literal royal castle, he should be reluctant to voice this opinion.

Which meant that officially, he didn’t condone murder.

For now.

“I’ll talk to him,” he concluded. A massive smile broke onto Katelyn’s face, and she jumped to her feet.

“Thanks, Neil!” she called. “Man, I’m so glad I didn’t accidentally kill you.”

Neil shot her a wary smile as she left the tent. Then he dropped his head, eyes catching the half-crushed leaves winking at him from the mortar.

“Yeah, yeah,” he told them with a sigh, picking up the pestle anew. “I have a job. I know.”

***

By the time the sun has set, Neil was ready to pass the fuck out, thank you very much.

He dragged his legs all the way from his work-tent to his room. Half asleep, he unlocked the door and walked inside, closing it behind him and leaning against it. He softly hit his head against the wood and sighed, eyes falling shut. He could fall asleep right here.

“Neil.”

Neil yelped, eyes flying open as he took in the room’s darkness. _Another_ intruder?! Wasn’t there a limit? A daily quota? One ill-intentioned intruder per day was more than enough for him, really. And how come they all knew who he was?

“Junkie, what are you panicking over?” Andrew’s voice suddenly became clear through the darkness, and a moment later a lamp came alight. Andrew was sitting on his bed, a long-extinguished cigarette stub dangling from his mouth. Now that Neil took a moment to take in his surroundings, he did notice the faint trails of smoke heaving down the air.

Neil crinkled his nose. “Did you at least open a window?”

“I’m not smoking,” said Andrew.

“Sure you’re not, Andrew,” said Neil. He crossed the room toward the windows, only to find them unlocked and open to a creak. He did himself the courtesy of opening them wide. “Did you come in through the window?”

“On the fifth floor? I’m not you,” replied Andrew. “I’m a well-mannered prince, after all. I came in through the door.”

“The door was locked,” noted Neil. Then his eyes narrowed. “Did you pick my lock? That’s not very princely.”

Andrew shrugged. “Not the crown prince.”

“And how did you lock it back up again?” continued Neil, re-crossing the room so that he could face Andrew, who has made no movement since Neil first came in.

“With lock-picks,” said Andrew, looking him dead in the eye.

“You admit to a felony, then.”

“I’m admitting to locking an unlocked door,” replied Andrew dryly. “Not much of a crime in there. If anything, I was doing you a favour.”

Neil shot him an unappreciative glare before flopping down on the bed next to him, back relaxing against the soft sheets. He threw an arm over his eyes, blocking the lights.

Man, it's been a long time since he'd had a bed with sheets this soft, and a mattress this thick. And that’s not speaking of the expansive bed-frame — made of some type of exported wood, the kind that was clean-shaven and didn’t have bugs eating at it while he slept. And the _pillows_ — plural, more than one single, sad, lonesome pillow — were so _fluffy_ , that it was like resting his head on a cloud. A cloud that was currently missing, but Neil was too tired to reach out for one.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

“I wanted to show you something,” said Andrew. “But I see that you’ve already crossed the border to candy-land, so I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“No, I’m awake,” objected Neil, taking his arm off his eyes to look at Andrew, who was looking back at him with an indiscernible expression. “I’m awake, I’m very present.” He stifled a yawn, forcing himself to sit up. “What did you wanna show me?”

Andrew stood up, discarding the cigarette stub to the ashtray standing on the nightstand by the bed. Okay, maybe Neil had somewhat of a bad habit, but in his defence — he wasn’t smoking his cigarettes, exactly. More like lighting them up in search for quiet, non-judging company, when sleep wasn’t forthcoming; he would usually just let them burn and got lost in the scent of smoke.

Andrew stalked all the way to the door before Neil picked himself up from the bed and followed him. He followed him through a maze of corridors that Neil was too tired to register, only aware that they were going down. It was when they went under the base level that Neil’s interest truly piqued. Basements haven’t been the part of the tour, previously.

“Where are we going?” he asked Andrew’s back as the staircase narrowed around them, the lights dimming to give the passage the feel of a dungeon. Were there any dungeons in the castle? There must be; places for unregistered criminals, favourites of the throne. In the Tanbarunian castle there were plenty of those — both the dungeons and the criminals. Neil would know.

“You’ll see,” was all Andrew said.

They came to a stop after two flights of stairs, in front of a closed, metal door. Neil eyed it warily. Two lamps were attached to the wall on both sides of it, the candles inside them burning fickly; they must’ve been alight for a while now, and they went on dimming. There was a hefty bolt on the door, which Andrew swiftly undid, before pulling it open.

Its screech echoed throughout the passageway, making Neil cringe. “Maybe you should oil that.”

“Maybe I like the cliche,” replied Andrew and walked inside. Neil followed, the door falling shut behind him with a heavy _thud_.

And then he stopped.

The room was relatively small, roughly the size of a humble boutique. But Neil couldn’t be sure, because he couldn’t see any of the walls. They were covered with wedges of plants, stacked on shelves or grown in small patches of soil, inside ceramic pots; some had vines dangling all the way down to the clean marble floor. There were hanging pots over his head, attached to the ceiling — it was low enough that if Neil jumped, he could reach it. Lights, hiding between plants on the shelves, flickered and pulsed faintly in rhythm with the candle-flames.

It was a greenhouse, he realized. A crude greenhouse, which Neil could tell was managed solely manually, but a greenhouse nonetheless. There was no automatic water-distribution system that he could see, and, surprisingly, no natural light. Well, it wasn’t as surprising, considering they were underground, as it was simply odd. “How are they kept alive without light?”

“They thrive in the dark,” said Andrew, reaching to a nearby flower, its petals wide and flat. “Nicky had them sent here after a family visit to an exotic island a few years ago. He thought they could help me manage my pent up aggression.”

“And do they?” asked Neil, examining the peculiar lines trailing across the petals of another flower. “Help, I mean.”

“Kind of do, kind of don’t,” Andrew said. “Close your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

Andrew turned to look at him. “You ask too many questions.”

Neil rolled his eyes, then complied. A minute or two passed before Andrew spoke again, his voice closer, but coming from behind. “Now open them.”

Neil did. “Holy…”

Andrew had turned off all the lamps, but the room wasn’t dark. It took Neil a second to realise that the lights, vibrant green and pale blue and scorching purple, were all coming from the plants.

They were glowing. Colourful shapes of vines; the veins of leaves burning blue, the lines on those flowers he’d examined blazing bright. The colours were strong, almost hurting his eyes with their transcendency; they reflected off of the clear surface of the marble floor, engulfing the room.

“They only light up in complete dark,” said Andrew quietly. “They naturally grow on that island, in a cave by the shore. A whole underground forest, coming alive after the rest of the world has fallen asleep.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Neil, unable to take his eyes off the sight in front of him. He could feel Andrew’s presence behind him, knew he was standing back.

“There was a stream there, too,” continued Andrew. “Its waters glowed a radioactive blue, like that one.” Neil looked over to the flower Andrew’s reached out to before. “They say it had restoring qualities, but it might just be made up.”

“This whole greenhouse is made up,” said Neil. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“It’s a secret,” Andrew said, his voice in Neil’s ear. A faint shudder went through him. “You wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” said Neil. He turned his head to meet blazing hazel eyes, reflecting the cold inferno of lights surrounding them. They were searching for something.

Neil was still, waiting — maybe for Andrew to find what it was that he was looking for, or maybe looking for something of his own. He could feel his heart beating, fast and sturdy in his chest, and not much else beyond that.

Not seeming to find anything, Andrew pulled back.

Neil swallowed down disappointment, even though he wasn’t sure what he’s been expecting. “Where are you going?”

“Back up.”

Neil spared another wondrous glance at the cacophony of light, before following Andrew out of the small greenhouse.

***

When they reached Neil’s room, Neil suddenly remembered Katelyn’s request. “Hey, Andrew. Do you happen to have recently tried to kill Aaron?”

“Perhaps.”

“Could you…” Neil closed the door behind him, cringing slightly. “Try not to do that?”

“No.”

“Katelyn told me it was an accident.”

Andrew gave him a flat look. “She accidentally shot at you with an arrow?”

“Well, no,” said Neil, sitting down on the bed. “But she didn’t try to kill me. Just to warn me, or scare me, or something. It turns out that Aaron doesn’t really like me, and he has a funny way of showing it.”

“So you’re saying,” Andrew said, “that if she had shot and killed you, it would’ve been an accident.”

“Yes! Exactly.”

“Did you miss the part where she almost shot and killed you?” Andrew’s lips curled unpleasantly. “Aaron deserves what’s coming to him.”

“Go easy on him,” Neil said. “He’s just… I don’t know. Not used to me? He’ll adjust. I don’t want to come between you two. It’s not worth it.”

Andrew looked like he was about to object, but didn’t reply. And even if he’d wanted to, it was in that moment that someone burst into the room, carrying a scroll and wearing an urgent expression.

“Prince Andrew,” said the person — a servant. “Your presence is requested at once.”

“What for?”

“There have been sudden developments; the prince of Tanbarun is on his way here, and the king has requested that both princes welcome him as soon as he is to arrive.”

Neil spluttered. “Riko’s coming here? _Why_?”

The servant ignored Neil, instead looking expectantly at Andrew. Andrew’s eyes darkened. “Answer his question.”

“Oh—well,” said the servant, “Prince Aaron is holding a ball tomorrow night to announce important news, and he’s requested diplomatic presence.”

“News?” Andrew’s voice was cold. “What kind of news?”

“It—it’s to be revealed at the ball,” stammered the servant. “I haven’t been informed. It really is urgent that you come with me, Your Highness.”

Andrew was quiet for a moment, before resigning to follow the servant.

***

On a balcony in the other end of the building, Aaron caressed his pigeon conspiratorially. Then, with a self-satisfied smirk, he went back into his chambers.

He had a prince to welcome, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter turned out to be one of my favourites so far, and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :D I'm so excited for the next chapters!! Things are about to go DOWN.


	8. Chapter 8

Neil crouched in between the bushes, adjusting his binoculars to get a better look at the scene unfolding by the castle’s gates.

Two rows of soldiers stood on both sides of the path leading up to the gates, swords tied at their waists and badges decorating their uniforms. Aligned with the gates, with their backs to Neil, stood the two identical princes of Clarines; Nicky was stationed by Andrew’s side, and Erik by Aaron’s. They were all close enough to Neil that if he were to wish for it, he could throw a rock at Aaron’s head and it would hit, but for all his internal rage, he didn’t want to compromise himself. Inconspicuousness was the name of the game; that was why he was currently sitting in the bushes, disguised as a bush himself with a crown of leaves and green war paint smeared on his cheeks, courtesy of Dan’s unknowing kindness of heart.

Okay, he may have borrowed the paint from Dan’s work-tent, but it wasn’t technically stealing if he’d made it in the first place, right?

At the sound of trumpets blowing, Neil zoomed his binoculars in, landing on the carriage strolling toward the gates. It wore Tanbarun’s royal sigil and was pulled by two horses, one black and the other white. An awfully familiar person was riding the white one. “ _Kevin?”_

“Did you hear that?” Aaron asked Andrew. Neil’s eyes widened minutely, and he pulled into himself against the bushes.

“No,” said Andrew. The carriage and its two horses stopped before them.

“Is that Johnny?” Nicky suddenly shrieked. “ _Johnny!_ I thought Andrew killed you!”

“As if Andrew would do something like that,” Neil muttered to himself. Aaron twitched, glancing to the sides in search of the phantom voice, and Neil made himself even smaller in response.

“Prince Riko appreciates the gift you’ve left following your latest visit to our kingdom,” said Kevin formally, chin held high despite the staggering difference of heights. It was quite amusing, in fact — the horse’s hight, combined with Kevin’s torso, which seemed to elongate with his pride, put a good four-foot margin between him and Clarines’ princes. Neil’s neck cramped just by looking at them, and he wasn’t half certain that they appreciated it.

“Kevin,” greeted Andrew coldly. “Could you do us the favour of getting off this high horse of yours?”

“Damn straight,” Neil whispered, and Aaron twitched again.

“Is anyone but me hearing this?”

“Oh no,” said Andrew flatly. “Someone, call the nurse. Aaron is becoming delusional; we must send him away for rehabilitation. Far, far away.”

“Somewhere where the sun doesn’t shine,” agreed Neil, revelling in Aaron’s following twitch.

“I’m not delusional, you asshole,” Aaron hissed at Andrew.

“Just hearing voices,” replied that.

“You two, behave yourselves,” Nicky hissed at them, smacking each on their backs to straighten. “You’re welcoming a foreign prince, for heaven’s sake. At least pretend to have some manners.”

“I refuse to hide my true self,” replied Andrew.

“I’ll lock the kitchen.”

“I’m more than capable of breaking in.”

“I’ll eat your secret stash of cookies.”

Andrew halted. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, if you won’t shut up,” threatened Nicky.

“Okay, now that that’s settled, please let me announce Prince Riko’s arrival,” said Kevin, taking the chance to do his job as Riko’s messenger. He cleared his throat, waiting for complete silence to fall. “I hereby announce Prince Riko’s arrival.”

The carriage’s door opened with a slam, and Neil’s binoculars zoomed in on it as a heeled boot peeked out, followed by the rest of Riko.

“Prince Riko!” came a voice from inside the carriage, dulled by the distance and, well, the carriage. “I insist that you stay put until we’ve arrived!”

“We already _have_ arrived, Jean,” said Riko. “Kevin’s just announced that.”

Neil’s binoculars moved to Kevin, catching his reactive frown. “Prince Riko, that’s a formality. You really shouldn’t bother to come out.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it,” Riko hissed, coming to a stop next to Kevin’s horse. He craned his neck to glare at the messenger.

“It’s a band of midgets,” Neil snickered to himself, zooming his binoculars slightly out to catch the full image of Kevin, high on his horse and surrounded by a band of royal midgets. “The higher the status, the shorter the person.”

“Did you hear that?” Riko bristled, glancing behind the princes right at Neil’s bush. Or rather, at Neil the bush. Neil froze, unintentionally imitating an actual bush; his disguise, apparently, was truly impeccable, because Riko didn’t notice him and disregarded the bushes altogether.

“Hear what?” Andrew asked sweetly. Riko looked to him, and upon closer binocularzation, Neil noted the stiff set of his shoulders, accompanied by a clenched jaw.

“It’s not of import,” said Riko. “Prince… Andrew, was it? It’s a delight to see you again.” He held out his hand, and Andrew grabbed it.

“Definitely delightful,” said Andrew, a predatory edge invading his voice. Neil could tell, even without seeing his face, that a matching predatory grin was plastered on his face. “I do hope you haven’t forgotten our conversation.”

Riko strained a smile. He tried to pull free of Andrew’s hold, but it didn’t give. “Of course not. It was quite memorable.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” replied Andrew, letting go of Riko’s hand. “I believe you haven’t met my brother.”

Riko’s glance jumped to Aaron, and the two shook hands. “In fact, I have not.”

“I mean, I would’ve thought the crown princes of two neighbouring kingdoms would have a diplomatic relationship, at the very least,” said Andrew. Neil narrowed his eyes, which translated into his binoculars slightly zooming in, edging between the back of Aaron’s head and Riko’s despicable face. “It’s hard to believe it’s only today that you two have met.”

“I’ve heard great things about you, Prince Riko,” said Aaron. His voice lacked the bite of Andrew’s, but Neil could tell he was lying through his teeth. No-one’s ever heard anything great about the Idiot Prince. “It would be an honour to host you for tomorrow night’s ball. I’ve invited royalties from all across the continent; I have quite the announcement to make.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” said Riko, smiling slyly. “It’s ought to be big, with an audience such as the one you’re describing.”

“It is,” agreed Aaron, voice lighter. “In the meantime, do make yourself at home, Prince Riko.”

“That I’ll do,” said Riko. “It was a pleasure speaking with you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go back to my carriage.”

“Yeah, run away, you coward,” sneered Neil behind his binoculars. Aaron and Riko both twitched, looking to the sides.

“Is everything alright?” asked Andrew sweetly. “We could send for a nurse, if you’re feeling unwell.”

“I’m feeling quite alright,” replied Riko at the same time Aaron said, “shut up.”

Andrew shrugged. “Well then.”

Not waiting for Riko to get climb back into his carriage, Andrew turned and walked through the gates, leaving the other royals to themselves. Nicky bowed before Riko and hurried after Andrew, mumbling an apology.

“Andrew, I swear, one of these days I’m going to throw you in the well,” he told Andrew when the two were out of earshot. Neil’s eyes followed them through his binoculars.

“The bushes would suffice,” replied Andrew, locking eyes with Neil’s binoculars. Neil’s grip slackened ever so slightly.

“Shut up, you asshole,” he muttered, cheeks heating at Andrew’s faint, self-satisfied smirk. Andrew turned his head back to look ahead, and within the minute, he and Nicky have disappeared into the castle.

Neil turned his binoculars back to the gates in time to see the carriage riding through, pulled by the black horse and Johnny — the one true soldier of this kingdom, who’s finally returned home.

Oh, yeah, and there was also Kevin. When would he cease to haunt Neil, Neil truly didn’t know.

***

The next morning, Neil made his way to the royal library, in search for a botany book that had perished in the explosion. Dan’s told him that there should be backup copies for most of the books that have been destroyed — and when Neil had asked her why they didn’t have the good sense to do that for the prototypes, she’d kicked him out of her room. Neil had a bruise on his calf to prove it.

He entered the library and scanned the direction board, before making a beeline for the botany section. He was about to start scanning the shelves when a figure perched against the wall caught his eye.

Jean was sitting on the floor, legs crossed and his sword lying on the carpet next to him. He was flipping through a sports magazine, unaware of Neil’s gaze on him.

_If Jean’s here,_ Neil’s mind supplied, _it must mean that…_

“Oh, hell no,” he said, and promptly turned around to leave, book be damned.

Only to come face to face with Riko Moriyama. And to add salt to injury, he was holding the very book Neil’s been looking for.

Riko stared at him. “Neil.”

“Why the fuck are you here?” Neil snapped before his common-sense filter could interfere. Riko’s eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you come to chase me back into Tanbarun, or what?” Neil said. “Are you that suicidal? Or did you already forget what happened last time?”

“I came here to attend Aaron’s announcement ball,” Riko said, putting the book down on a nearby shelf and turning to fully face the angry redhead. “I don’t want any war.”

Neil scoffed. “As if. What’s your plan, huh? Drug my drink? Knock me out when nobody’s looking?”

“Please,” Riko laughed. “Not the whole world revolves around you, Josten. I’ve moved on. Though Minyard doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.”

“What’s Andrew got to do with this?”

“Other Minyard,” supplied Riko. He leaned his shoulder against the shelves, crossing his arms. “He thinks I’m stupid, but it’s obvious to anyone looking why he asked for me to arrive first. Or haven’t you noticed yet that the rest of our dear royal…” he smacked his lips, “...friends, haven’t shown up yet?”

Instinctually, Neil glanced around the library. It was empty, save for the two of them and Jean, behind them. Neil was suddenly very aware of the fact that technically, he was trapped — Riko up front, Jean at the back, and floor-to-ceiling shelves to his sides.

He took a step back, which made an ugly grin break onto Riko’s face. “Realised that your prince isn’t here to save you this time?”

“What do you want?” Neil bit out, hand hovering over his pocket.

Riko shrugged. “Me? Nothing. You should check with your dear crown prince, though, before he brings the entire cavalry down on you.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Just friendly advice.” Riko’s grin bared teeth. “If he found out about me, who knows what else he might dig up?”

“Everyone knows about what happened between us,” said Neil. A side-eyed glance over his shoulder told him Jean hasn’t moved from his initial position; he looked completely disinterested in what was going down before him, but Neil didn’t let that fool him. “Your antics tend to be a little too public.”

“I might be wrong, then,” Riko said, voice indifferent. “Jean! We’re going.”

“I’m not done,” said Neil. Jean shouldered past him, the magazine nowhere to be seen.

“I am,” replied the prince. “Take care, Wesninski.”

By the time Neil realised what he’s said, Riko was gone. He wasn’t there to see Neil’s blue eyes widen as he went still. And when Neil came back to himself and ran out of the library and into the hallway, Riko, once again, was gone.

Neil did, however, see someone else.

“What the hell is your problem?” he yelled, shoving Aaron against the wall. Aaron lifted his eyes to him in surprise, staggering to stay upright.

“Neil? What the hell?”

“The fuck is your problem?” repeated Neil, his voice laced with venom. “First the damn arrow, and now this? What did I ever do to you, huh?”

“Neil, calm down,” Aaron said, jaw set.

“I’ll calm down when you stop fucking antagonising me, you asshole,” Neil said, crowding into Aaron’s space. “I’m not going anywhere. You should get it through that thick skull of yours before you step where you don’t _fucking_ belong.”

Aaron shoved Neil back, pushing past him, and had the nerve to walk away. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Oh no, no you don’t!” Neil yelled and followed, brisk steps just short of Aaron’s. “You’re not walking away from me!”

“Or _what_?” Aaron called over his shoulder, picking up his pace.

“I’ll fucking stab you, that’s what! Now listen here you _asshole_ —“

Aaron turned around and slammed Neil against the wall in one swift motion, harsh enough that Neil’s head bounced against the bricks and stars invaded his vision for a fleeting second. By the time they cleared, Neil was breathing shallow, his switchblade pressed against Aaron’s side.

“Let go,” Neil snarled.

“You’d be executed,” Aaron said, voice steady. His eyes, so alike Andrew’s and yet nothing about them the same, bore into Neil’s cold gaze. Neil laughed in his face.

“Do I look like I care?”

“Stay away from Andrew,” Aaron said. “Since you’re hell-bent on doing this right this second, I’ll humour you. I don’t know what the fuck you want to get out of him, but I won’t let you. So stay. Away.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea into your head that I want something from him,” Neil snapped. “We’re friends. You know what a friend is? I guess you wouldn’t, since you’re such a fucking asshole.”

Aaron’s mouth pinched. “I don’t trust you, _Josten_ ,” he said. “If that’s even your name. You came out of nowhere with nothing but a royal scandal over your head, and suddenly you’re tight with the court? You could be a spy, for all I know.”

“Trust Andrew, then!” Neil yelled. “Don’t you think he could judge for himself? Do you think he would’ve brought me here from another _kingdom_ if he didn’t fucking trust me? If he thought I were a damn _spy_?”

Aaron opened his mouth to reply, but Neil didn’t let him. “You don’t trust him at all, do you? How’s that been working out for you, huh? Does he even like you?”

“Our relationship,” Aaron hissed, pressing Neil harder against the wall, “is none of your business.”

“And our relationship is none of yours,” Neil snapped back. “If you’d bothered to ask me _or_ him, you’d know I’d never fucking hurt him.”

Aaron fell silent at that, his grip loosening. Neil took the opportunity to shove him away and pocketed the switchblade. His eyes were ice-cold. “And next time you try to meddle in my past, I _will_ kill you. You hear me?”

And then he turned and left, not waiting for a response.

***

Damn it, Neil forgot how to tie a tie.

He threw the tie on the bed with a frustrated groan, running his hands through his hair. Then he kicked one of the bed’s legs for good measure, before sitting down on the bed himself, his hands still in his hair. His leg jittered, and before long he stood up again and grabbed his tie, standing back in front of the full-body mirror.

He was dressed in the best suit he’s ever owned — black and slick with a perfect fit, even though Neil hasn’t been measured since he was eleven. Under both the embroidered jacket and the thick vest, the white tunic was smooth and clean. His black boots were shiny. The scent of new clothing clang to him.

Neil halted in front of the mirror, his black tie loose in his palm. His red hair grew a bit since he first came here, when Andrew had it cut, and now it had messy strands falling on his forehead and sticking out in various directions. His blue eyes stuck out both against the striking red of his hair and the monotone of his clothes, drawing all attention to his face. To his eyes. To his red hair and his blue eyes, which were both exactly like his father’s.

Neil threw the tie at the mirror and turned around, running his hands through his hair once again.

When Neil had initially stormed into his room after his little showdown with Aaron, he was surprised to be welcomed by a large box sitting on his bed. When he’d opened it, he’d discovered the suit he was currently wearing, including the black leather boots and a sword-sheathe he didn’t bother with; and under all the garments, there had rested a card, telling him that Andrew was the one to have sent it to him. _Apparently_ , Andrew didn’t think Neil could pick out a suit for himself.

The fact that he’d completely forgotten to attend to that meant nothing.

And the fact that he’s forgotten how to tie a stupid tie made him even more pissed than he already was. When someone knocked on his door, he stomped toward it, fully intending to punch whoever it was that had the _nerve_ to bother him in the middle of his (minor, mind you) _breakdown_.

He threw the door open, and Andrew caught the punch he threw at him, fingers taut against Neil’s wrist.

“Ow, _ow,_ you’re blocking my blood flow—“

“Did you really just try to punch me?” Andrew said, absolutely no infliction to his voice. Then he looked Neil up and down, a minor crease to his forehead. “Where’s your tie?”

“In hell,” muttered Neil, pulling out of Andrew’s hold and turning on his heel to stomp back to the bed, minding not to look at the mirror again. He heard Andrew’s footfall following him, leaving the door open.

From the corner of his eye, Neil saw Andrew pick up his tie. “Come here.”

“Nope. I gave up on that thing,” said Neil, turning his back to Andrew just to be irritating. Andrew responded by coming behind him and throwing the tie loosely around his collar.

“Turn around,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Tying a tie,” responded Andrew, as if Neil were stupid. “Although not very well, since I can’t see what I’m doing.”

Neil turned around with a pout, and Andrew tied his tie, pulling Neil closer in the process. Within the minute, the tie held obediently against Neil’s collar. Neil looked down at it, betrayal splayed on his face. “I see how it is, then,” he bitterly told it.

“Now your hair,” Andrew said, and Neil’s brow creased.

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Except for the fact that it looks like you’ve just woken up from a week-long slumber?” Andrew replied. “Nothing in particular.”

“And how exactly are you planning to fix that?”

Andrew stalked off and started opening Neil’s drawers, much to Neil’s incredulous dismay. “Hello? Excuse me? Do you know what privacy is?”

“No,” said Andrew, throwing shut Neil’s sock drawer and crouching to open the one beneath it. Neil shot across the room and weaselled in between Andrew and the yet unopened drawer. “What exactly are you looking for?”

Andrew, instead of replying, noticed something and stood up. He reached behind Neil and picked up a hair comb, which has been sitting on top of the drawers. “Turn around.”

“Again?”

“Yes or no?”

Neil fell quiet for a moment, staring at Andrew inquiringly. Andrew looked back, comb in hand.

“To me fixing your hair,” he clarified.

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Neil said, completely baffled by now. Andrew set to work, and within the five minute mark, he took a step back. His hand rested on his sword-sheathe as he tilted his head, attentively examining Neil in all of his misplaced glory.

Behind him, Neil caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He did look more presentable; less like a racoon returned from war, and more like… well, like someone from a royal court.

“A dance,” Andrew said, and Neil tore his eyes from the mirror, settling on him anew.

“A dance?”

Andrew gestured vaguely with the comb. “In exchange for saving you from your own inadequacy.”

Neil blinked at him. “You’re making a deal? We haven’t settled the last one yet.”

“You’re in debt, yes,” Andrew said.

“What—“

“It truly is commendable, the amount of times you’ve managed to desperately need my help.”

“Excuse me, I did _not_ ask you to barge in my room and _brush my hair_ —“

“You would’ve been banished on sight, had you been seen like that at the ball,” Andrew stated, shaking his head gravely. “Such a pitiful end for a promising herbalist, it would’ve been. Tragic.”

Neil stared Andrew down with a flat glare. And then it clicked. ”You just want me to dance with you and still have me owing you a favour.”

“I want nothing,” replied Andrew.

“Ha, yeah, I don’t buy that,” Neil huffed. “I’ll tell you what — I’ll give you a dance for the greenhouse night. And, since you’ve just done it all on your own accord, you’ll give this whole ordeal up.”

“No,” Andrew said.

“Andrew.”

Andrew put the comb down on the drawer behind Neil and backed away again. “Two different deals.”

“Two dances, then,” said Neil. “Or do you not want to dance with me? Is that it? I take it, then, that you think a dance with me isn’t an equal measure to digging up an entire greenhouse in the middle of the night.”

The edge of Andrew’s mouth twisted, and Neil’s face broke into a victorious grin. “Two dances it is. And then I’m debt-free.”

Andrew didn’t look one bit impressed. He simply turned around and stalked toward the entrance, Neil following him with giddy steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It was so fun to read your comments last chapter, and I hope this chapter was somewhat satisfying :) I know that for me it was. 
> 
> Next chapter: featuring the ball, and Aaron's mystery announcement! And... a dance?


	9. Chapter 9

At night, the ballroom looked quite different than it had during the supply-closet tour.

Neil followed Andrew through the massive doors, sparing quick glances at the two butlers stationed on either side of them as those bowed to the prince’s passage. The ballroom itself was packed with the type of crowd that sent a shudder down Neil’s spine; ladies heavied down by layered, colourful gowns, gentlemen standing tall in embroidered suits and glasses of champagne on hand. A low, incomprehensible chatter carried through the air, to the background of soft orchestra music, which came from the once-abandoned elevated porch that stood at the very back of the room.

For a fleeting second, Neil thought he was somewhere else. The music blended together, and the people swaying around him blurred into messy colours; his eyes jumped from blur to blur, suddenly terrified of what they were going to land on. It wasn’t hard to picture it — after all, those icy blue eyes had always found him, no matter where he’d tried to hide, or how hard he’d tried to fade into the crowd.

Instead, Neil’s gaze fell on a familiar back that didn’t belong to that past, and suddenly everything around him settled back into all that it was — a Clarinesian ballroom, wherein he was but a guest of the crown. He followed that familiar back to a corner of the room, where a small buffet with refreshments was standing. Andrew handed him a glass of champagne and leaned his back against the edge of the table, sipping from his own glass as he looked over Neil at the crowd. “They’re all so busy all the time. Busy, busy people.”

Neil glanced over his shoulder. “Busy doing nothing, if you ask me.”

“Not nothing,” said Andrew, his mouth curled in distaste. “Gossiping, selling each other out. All that betrayal nibbles at your nap time. Why do you think they’re here? For the gossip.” He shrugged faintly, taking another long sip. “And maybe for the champagne.”

Neil looked down at his own glass. “Are _you_ here for the champagne?”

“I’m here for dear old twin brother of mine,” Andrew said, his eyes fixing on something behind Neil. When Neil looked, he saw Aaron standing in the middle of the ballroom, accompanied by Katelyn, who wore a mesmerising pink gown, and surrounded by a circle of unfamiliar royal faces, all wearing fake smiles.

Katelyn leaned into Aaron and whispered something in his ear, which made the crown prince lift his head and look around, before meeting Andrew’s eyes. Neil saw a flicker of hesitation pass through his features, before he raised his glass and clicked a metallic fork against it, loud enough to draw forth the attention of the entire ballroom. All the chatter around them died down.

“Thank you all for coming here tonight,” Aaron started, lowering his glass. He looked around the room, eyes fleeting across the different royals. “It’s an honour to have you all gathered here for my announcement. It’s truly a special day for me.”

Neil dared a glance at Andrew, who’s gone utterly still next to him. Across the room, Aaron, along with Katelyn, has made his way to the elevated porch. Katelyn’s hand was in Aaron’s, and she was beaming at the crowd; Aaron’s smile was shier. “I suppose I should voice the reason you’re all here tonight. Katelyn and I, as some of you may know, have been dating for a few years now.” He kept his gaze as far away from Andrew as possible, missing the way his brother’s knuckles turned white against the half-empty champagne glass. “As of one week ago, I’ve received Katelyn’s father’s approval to take her hand in marriage, as well as my father’s — the king’s — blessing. I’ve since asked for her hand, and now, we’re betrothed to be married within the month.”

A loud _thud_ echoed throughout the ballroom, and Neil startled around toward the source of it — only to have Andrew brushing past him, champagne glass abandoned. He reached out a hand to stop him. “Andrew—“

Andrew ignored him, and pointedly ignored Aaron’s and the rest of the guests’ stares on him as he stalked toward the ballroom’s large double-doors, his footfall the only sound disturbing the silence that’s fallen. The two butlers were the only ones to stir, customarily bowing as he swooshed past and promptly disappeared from sight.

Neil stood there for a second longer before he put his glass down on the table behind him, not sparing it a glance as he broke into a run after the blond. As he ran past the entrance and down the hallway, barely catching sight of Andrew’s back as he disappeared around a corner, he heard the ballroom distantly breaking into commotion behind him.

Back at the drinks table, lying fallen next to Neil’s discarded champagne glass, another half-full glass of champagne was dripping steadily onto the carpet.

***

Neil followed Andrew all the way to his chambers and reached the doors just as Andrew slammed them shut behind him. He leaned his hands against his knees, huffing and panting for a few moments before finally catching his breath. Then, straightening, he knocked on the door.

“Andrew?” he called, lightly leaning his head against the wood. “It’s me. I’m coming in.”

“Don’t,” came the muffled reply. Neil sighed and straightened with full intention to leave, when a crash and groan made their way to his ears.

Neil burst into the room, switchblade already in hand, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Andrew was standing in the middle of his chambers, his sword lying halfway across the room amongst the shards of a broken glass table. A figure dressed in all-blacks was standing with his back to Neil, aiming a sword at Andrew’s exposed throat. Andrew’s eyes widened minutely at Neil’s entrance.

Neil stepped forward, intending to apprehend the assailant from behind, when a low, gravelly voice spoke. “One more step and Minyard bites the dust.”

This was accompanied by the sword inching closer to Andrew’s throat, touching the skin but not yet drawing blood. Neil stopped.

“Drop the weapon,” said the assailant. The clatter echoed throughout the chambers when Neil complied. Andrew’s features tensed further.

“Who are you?” said Neil, taking a silent step forward and over the switchblade on the floor. He didn’t need it; all he needed was to distract the assailant, and knock him out when he least expected it. From what Neil’s gathered, he was alone, which meant Neil could take him. “Why are you here?"

“I’m here to dismantle the Minyard’s rule over the kingdom,” announced the assailant, gesturing slightly with the sword — enough to make Andrew pull back and Neil cringe. “I can stand by no longer as Clarines falls! It’s time for a change.”

“Right, yeah, and you decided to do it out of your own accord?” said Neil. The assailant laughed.

“Oh, no, we have a whole organisation!” he exclaimed, seemingly unaware that he was disclosing secrets that would otherwise be pulled out of him via methods of torture — which made him either incredibly lucky or incredibly stupid. Or both, Neil figured.

“A whole organisation, huh,” he mumbled, then raised his voice. “And you, what, came here to kidnap the prince?”

“Without its crown prince, the kingdom is bound to perish!” exclaimed the assailant, gesturing with the sword again and this time nicking the skin of Andrew’s neck. Neil’s vision hazed. One more step and he would be close enough to tackle him; if only he would remain unnoticed.

“Crown prince,” prompted Neil. He locked eyes with Andrew, who gave him a near indistinguishable nod. “Oh, baskets gracious. You’ve got Aaron. Whatever shall the kingdom do now.” 

“Right?” agreed the assailant vehemently. “And once we get out of here with him, the king will undoubtedly bend to our whims!”

Neil made his final step and three things happened in quick succession. Neil stringed his arms around the assailant’s throat, pulling him away from Andrew; Andrew quirked his neck sideways, noticing something; and a split-second after Neil registered Andrew’s call of, “Neil, watch out!”, a sharp pain tore through his bicep, and his hold over the assailant’s neck dropped as he was pulled back by something.

Neil tumbled to the ground at the same time Andrew sprang for his sword, but only when Neil tried to get up to tackle the assailant, did he realise that he was pinned to the ground by something. Glancing at his arm, he saw that an arrow has sliced through the cloth of his suit’s jacket and imbedded itself in the floor; the ache he felt told him that it’s grazed his skin, even though by the looks of it, he hadn’t been completely impaled. The blood seeping through the jacket did concern him, though.

Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Neil twisted and pulled at the arrow with his free hand, trying to yank it out of the ground — but to no avail. From the edge of his vision, he caught the glint of two swords clashing; with a decisive motion, he wiggled out of his jacket, feeling his skin tear as he pulled himself away from the arrow.

He climbed to his feet and was about to launch himself at the assailant once again when he saw Andrew stumble. The assailant took the opportunity to pull his sword out of his grasp with his own, and to Neil’s surprise, Andrew only swayed backward. Then he dropped to his knees without prompting, and within the second he was unconscious.

Neil didn’t think — he grabbed the switchblade from where he’d left it on the floor and charged at the assailant, yelling, “what have you done to him?”

The assailant started turning, and Neil didn’t intend to let him finish before he stubbed the motherfucker — but then something hit his head with full force, and a kick to the back of his knees knocked him down on the ground again, switchblade clattering free of his grasp.

Someone, dressed in the same getup as the first assailant and holding a bow, bypassed him. “Well done telling him our entire plan, _Arnold._ ”

“I was stalling,” protested the first assailant — Arnold.

“Oh, you were stalling, were you?” mocked the second. “Can you explain to me why the hell the prince wasn’t already unconscious by then?”

“He must have some kind of immunity to the toxin that delayed its effects,” said Arnold. “It isn’t unheard of.”

“Then why didn’t you, I don’t know, _knock him out_?”

“How was I supposed to knock him out with a sword?!”

“Punch him in the head or something!” exclaimed the archer. “C’mon! If it wasn’t for me, then Little Red Riding Hood here would’ve choked you out!”

“Yeah, by the way, I had full control of the situation,” interjected Arnold.

“Sure you did,” sneered the archer. “And I’m a prince. C’mon, help me move ‘em.”

“What, Red too?”

“We can’t very well just leave him here, now that you’ve told him our plan, can we?” said the archer. “It’s either we take him or we kill him.”

_Ah, shit_ , thought Neil. He wasn’t by any means capable of protecting himself right now, barely clinging onto consciousness as he was. _Please just kidnap me instead_.

“We can’t leave evidence behind,” argued Arnold. “A bloody corpse in the prince’s chambers would be suspicious.”

“You’re right,” said the archer. “Getting rid of his body isn’t worth the hassle. Okay, get him, I’ll get the prince.”

“What? Why? I can take the prince.”

The archer snorted. “As if you can carry his bulk.”

“How much heavier can he already be?”

“Red here’s made of noodles,” laughed the archer. Neil scowled internally. “Or at least he looks like it. One sorry hit to the head and he was out like a light.”

Then, all of the sudden, Arnold’s gaze fell on Neil. Both of them froze for a whole second, looking at each other. “Yeah, about that…”

“What?” The archer turned. “Oh, shit.”

Neil wholeheartedly agreed. Before he could either protest or move to protect himself, the archer stalked over, and with a swift kick to the head he sent Neil a vision of stars.

Then Neil really was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Neil... I'm not sorry though :D
> 
> Thank you guys as always for reading and commenting and kudosing! My plans are finally afoot... How will our unfortunate duo fare? Stay tuned to find out ;)


	10. Chapter 10

By nature of announcement balls, especially those noting betrothment, Aaron found himself stuck exchanging pleasantries with a bunch of doofuses for an hour longer than he would’ve liked.

Every five minutes or so he would glance at the entrance, waiting to see either his brother or the redheaded disaster resurface. He’d started getting worried at the half-hour mark; by the end of the hour, he excused himself from a dull conversation with the duke of a farming family from the mountains — who’d have known they had dukes there — and left the ballroom.

“Aaron, sweetheart, where are you going?” Katelyn appeared seemingly out of thin air next to him, falling into easy step beside him despite his urgent pace. “You’ve abandoned the guests.”

“I’m worried about Andrew,” he said, turning the corner. Katelyn followed. “He hasn’t come back yet.”

“You know he doesn’t approve of us,” said Katelyn, her voice gentle. “He’ll come around, eventually. Maybe you should give him his space.”

“I have a bad feeling,” Aaron insisted, and faltered. He and Katelyn have come in clear view of Andrew’s chambers, and Aaron’s heart sank when he saw that the doors were open. Andrew liked his privacy, and even more so after storming away from situations that pissed him off.

Aaron’s step turned cautious as he approached the mahogany doors and peeked inside, and then he threw the doors wide opened and stormed in, taking in his surroundings with a panicked edge. Andrew’s glass table, the one Renee had gifted him two years ago, was shuttered to pieces. In the middle of the room a jacket was pinned to the floor by an arrow, a pool of half-dried blood soaking it; Aaron’s breath hitched before he recognised that it wasn’t Andrew’s jacket, but _Neil’s_.

“Oh my God,” came Katelyn’s voice, weakened, from behind him. And then, “is that Neil’s?”

Aaron turned around to see her looking down at a discarded switchblade. A switchblade that Aaron knew well. “Yes, it is.”

Katelyn lifted frightened eyes to him. “Did _Neil_ do all this?”

Aaron opened his mouth, about to take the easy route of blame; he’d suspected Neil from the start, after all, and it seemed like the other shoe has finally dropped. But something prevented him from voicing agreement.

His memory rippled back to the latest afternoon, and to his recent confrontation with Neil. He involuntarily recalled the complete and utter defiance — the _confidence_ — with which he’d claimed that he would never harm his brother. And Aaron, despite his best efforts, remembered believing him.

“They’ve both been taken,” he resolutely said, turning back to inspect the room once again. “Katelyn, alert the guards. We have to find them.”

***

Neil groaned, feeling his head loll as he blinked his eyes open. His head felt like it was about to explode; he tried to lift his hand to rub at his forehead, but it refused to obey. He startlingly realised that his hands were bound together behind him.

Neil stiffened, suddenly remembering that he’s been kidnapped. _Again._ He let out another groan and let his head hit the tree behind him.

Wait. He was sitting against a tree?

Neil blinked several times in an attempt to clear his vision, and saw that he was indeed in a forest. Craning his neck to the side, he confirmed that, yes, he was sitting against a hefty tree, his hands bound and squished between the trunk and himself.

Maybe he should go on a vacation some day, he absently thought. Get a break from all the crazy royals and kidnappers. He could rent a nice cabin by a blue lake, take his canoe out for a ride. When was the last time she’s seen the sky? Ah, but then he’d have to go back to Tanbarun; all of his — _questionable_ — possessions were still locked away in the secret basement under his shop. Maybe he could ask Andrew to lend him a new canoe instead.

Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no.

Neil paled when he suddenly remembered that he wasn’t the only one kidnapped. He remembered that, in fact, he wasn’t _supposed_ to be kidnapped at all. “Andrew? Are you here?”

“Yep,” came the reply from behind him. Neil craned his neck again, and saw the very edge of a fabric sticking out from the other side of the tree trunk.

“You okay?” he asked the fabric.

“Mhhm,” came the reply. “You were the one shot with an arrow.”

Oh, fuck, Neil’s completely forgotten about that. He looked down at his bicep and, to his surprise, found his sleeve torn and the arm wrapped in a thick layer of gauze, tinged just slightly with crimson. “Would you look at that, I’m completely fine. Apparently, we have nice kidnappers,” he informed Andrew. “Speaking of…” he looked around him, seeing nothing but trees and a single, white bunny, who was sitting in the grass a few feet away from him, glaring at him. Neil narrowed his eyes at it. Was it… left behind to guard them? “Where are they?”

“Gone,” said Andrew.

“Did you kill them?”

There was a pause. “Yes, Neil. I killed them, got rid of the bodies, and then sat back down and tied myself to a tree again because I hate myself.”

“Yeah, okay, that was a stupid question.”

There was a shuffle coming from the bushes, and Neil stiffened, eyes zeroing in on it. A moment later, a second bunny sprang out from between the leaves and tackled the already present bunny; the first bunny evaded the attack, flattened his ears and hissed at the newcomer. Neil’s breath hitched. “Oh, no, guys, calm down.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“There are two bunnies fighting,” he replied as the second bunny ominously raised a clawed foot at the first. The first bunny ran away from the second, trampling into Neil; Neil let out a brief _oof_ before the second bunny slammed into him, basically punching the breath out of him. The first bunny climbed his torso and perched itself on his shoulder, shuffling against Neil’s ear; he moved his face just in time to avoid a claw aimed at the first bunny, which hissed aggressively. “Guys! _Calm down!_ ”

“Neil, what are you doing,” asked Andrew.

“Trying not to get murdered by a pissed off— _bunny_!” Neil exclaimed, wiggling to try and expel the infestation.

“I don’t know why I bothered asking.”

“Andrew—can you—“ Neil let out another _oof_ , “get out of the bindings?”

“Working on it,” replied that. “Can you survive… five minutes?”

“Debata _ble!”_ Neil’s voice pitched at the last vowel as the second bunny slammed into his nose. “Why do these things keep _happening_ to me?!”

“You’re a murder magnet,” replied Andrew, as if that was a completely reasonable explanation as to why two bunnies have decided to settle their personal scores while he was in the process of being kidnapped, as if _that_ wasn’t already enough.

And then a new, vaguely familiar voice entered the scene, accompanied by the sound of something clattering to the ground. “What the hell is going on?”

Neil looked up and blanched. The archer, the one who’d shot him and then knocked him out, was standing a few feet away from him, staring at Neil with a pile of branches scattered around him on the ground.

“What is it, Archer?” came another familiar voice. Soon enough, Arnold came to a stop next to his friend — or, at least, Neil assumed they were friends. Maybe they were just colleagues.

“Your name’s actually Archer?” Neil said, shifting again to avoid another claw that may or may not have almost shredded his eye. Sheesh.

“Yeah,” snapped Archer. “What of it?”

“We don’t care for your names,” said Andrew from the other side of the tree. “He doesn’t either. If you don’t release us in the next ten minutes, I’m going to kill you both.”

“And get these bunnies off of me!” Neil helpfully added.

“How did this happen?” Archer said, not moving to do either. Instead, he turned to Arnold. “Weren’t you supposed to watch them? They could’ve escaped!”

“Guys, I might just die any second,” Neil said.

“I was gone for less than five minutes, Archer,” said Arnold, ignoring Neil’s obvious distress. Archer crouched down and started picking up the branches.

“Five minutes during which they could’ve escaped,” he said.

“Or died!” exclaimed Neil.

“I don’t think they care if you die,” Andrew told him. Neil’s expression flattened.

“You know what, Archer,” Arnold said. “I’m sick of you constantly bossing me around. We’re equal in this deal, alright? Same salary, same rights.”

“So you do work for someone,” Neil said.

“Shut up,” the two snapped at him. Neil raised his shoulders defensively, both as a gesture and to try and knock the bunnies off of him again. Archer, on his part, abandoned the branches and stood up, bringing his full hight directly in front of Arnold. “Need I remind you that we won’t get anything if they escape? Worse than that, Arnold; the court will find us and introduce us to the gallows. Where will your attitude get you, then?”

Arnold snarled at him. “Screw you, dude. I’m out.”

Archer sputtered. “You can’t just _quit_ , Arnold! We have two hostages!”

“Well, _you_ fucking deal with ‘em!” yelled Arnold, stepping back. “Ain’t my problem anymore, is it?”

When he said that, his foot sank into the bush out of which the bunny had sprang, and everything broke into chaos.

Arnold screamed as a flurry of bunnies jumped out at him, trampling him to the ground. The second bunny _finally_ jumped off of Neil to join the party; the first remained perched against his shoulder, unmoving, watching along with Neil.

“Arnold!” exclaimed Archer, trying to pull the bunnies off of his colleague.

“Don’t move,” Andrew quietly said from beside Neil, and Neil nearly jumped out of his skin. He belatedly registered that Andrew was crouching next to him, free of his binds and cutting at his. They remained quiet, and soon enough, Neil was free as well; he grabbed the bunny in a tight embrace and he and Andrew took off.

“ _Hey!_ ” Archer screamed after them.

“You can either chase us or save your friend!” Neil yelled over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t leave him to die, would you?”

In the end, Arnold found out that he was more of a friend than a mere colleague to Archer, and, within the minute, Neil and Andrew managed to disappear between the trees with no one giving chase. For once, the universe was in Neil’s favour.

***

“…no sign of them anywhere,” concluded the captain of the royal guard. Aaron had his elbow perched against the meeting board’s table, fingers rubbing his hairline.

“Is it possible that they’re dead?” suggested another high-ranking guard. Aaron shot him a venomous glare.

“Unlikely,” replied the captain, discreetly gesturing for Aaron to calm down and stay put.

“They could’ve been taken for ransom,” said Kevin. All the guards in the room frowned at him, and he raised his eyebrows at them from his position by the door. “What? Neil’s my friend. I’m helping.”

The captain, after brief consideration, shook his head. “That, as well, is unlikely. The kidnappers haven’t left a ransom note.”

“Maybe it’s a declaration of war,” said someone. Aaron looked to him; a young man, barely older than him, with straw-coloured hair and an impeccable uniform. “Representatives of most major kingdoms were present tonight. They could’ve easily orchestrated something like that.”

“We have no qualms with any of them,” speculated Aaron.

“Then maybe it’s personal,” said the straw-haired guard. Aaron’s eyes widened and snapped to Kevin, a bitter suspicion sinking in.

This might all be his fault.

“Get me a hold of Riko Moriyama,” he said, springing to his feet. Although he addressed the entire room, he didn’t break eye contact with Kevin. “I think he might be responsible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely sure how this happened. 
> 
> Thanks you reading!! Hope you enjoyed <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy an early chapter! I'm so nice, I know. Hope you guys enjoy!! <3

It turned out that today was _really_ Neil’s lucky day, he thought as he picked up the machete that was lying next to what seemed like the remains of a camp. There were some burnt coals still thinly smoldering a foot away, a few worn tent-pegs stuck in the ground, and the machete. “You think a zombie’s going to jump out of the bushes?”

“Don’t jinx us,” Andrew said, pulling a peg out of the ground. He weighed it in his hand and seemed vaguely satisfied. “I’ve had enough of your shitty luck.”

Neil mock-gasped. “ _Excuse_ me? It’s you they were after. By all accounts, you’re to blame.”

“Technically, they were after Aaron,” replied Andrew. “And so officially, right now I’m not me, which makes you responsible.”

“ _How_?”

Andrew shrugged. “Somehow.”

“Very compelling,” Neil said dryly. He climbed back to his feet with the machete and looked around him. “Where are we, anyway?”

Andrew copied his gesture and looked around at the trees looming over them from all sides, absently shoving the peg into his pocket. “It would seem that we’re in some kind of a forest.”

“No, really,” Neil deadpanned, briefly imagining staking Andrew just to make a point. He wouldn’t, of course — but he _considered_ it. For, like, half a second. “You know, I think you really need to work on that poison immunity of yours.”

Andrew gave him a flat look.

“I mean,” Neil continued, pulling at the word while taking an experimental jab at the air with the machete, “you keep passing out before waking up completely fine. It’s great that you’re not dead, don’t get me wrong,” he stressed at the further flattening of Andrew’s expression, “but it’s kinda. I dunno. Flawed.”

“Of course,” Andrew said after a brief pause. “Let me just polish my poison immunity capabilities. Where did I put the manual?” He feigned looking around, patted his pockets. “Maybe it can tell me where I went wrong with repeatedly poisoning myself, since I’ve been so awfully ineffective at getting results. Hmm. Oh no,” he interjected, completely apathetically. “It seems I’ve misplaced it. Looks like you’re going to have to deal with my imperfect _poison immunity_ , what a goddamn shame.”

Neil’s eyebrows quirked. “Repeatedly poisoning yourself?”

“What, did you think I was born immune?”

“…yes?”

They looked at each other in dead silence for five whole, stretching seconds, before Andrew sighed and walked by Neil toward the trees. “Come on, Junkie. We have to get you home before you lose any more brain cells.”

“What does that even mean,” Neil said, following him. He hacked into the branches that flew his way — he had the fleeting suspicion that Andrew was pushing them past himself with more force than necessary so that they would backlash harder. Admittedly, the situation was dire; they were in a seemingly endless, god-forsaken forest (as Andrew had so helpfully deduced), and the early wisps of sunshine were infiltrating through the leaves overhead. They’d spent the entire night running around trying to find the way home, and that meant that half the Clarinesian royal guard and the cavalry and whomnot were also running around looking to drag them back home. Well, to drag Andrew back home. Neil only happened to have been kidnapped along with the kingdom’s second prince, because, what do you know, he’s just lucky like that.

Neil’s machete broke against a few branches, blade snapping clean off the wooden handle. When he was done cursing in all the colours of the rainbow and the shades between them, he muttered, “maybe it isn’t my lucky day after all.”

“You’ve been kidnapped,” Andrew said from a few feet ahead. How he’d even heard him, Neil had no idea. “What made you think it was lucky in the first place?”

“Not dying generally does that,” Neil said. He threw the useless handle into the bushes and kicked tree that’s murdered his machete, just to demonstrate to the universe how spiteful and vengeful he was growing.

“Don’t jinx us.”

“You know,” Neil said, jogging up to catch up with him, “jinxing is a superstition. It’s not a thing.”

“I’ll write that on your tombstone after a zombie kills you.”

Neil scowled. “Zombies aren’t a thing either.”

At that, Andrew stopped and turned around to face him. “We’re in a forest with no sign of civilisation,” he stated. “We’ve been saved by rabid rabbits and have stumbled across a survival camp. You found a machete. Your machete committed suicide. No weapons and an apocalyptic setting equals your tombstone, on which I’ll permanently engrave how you’ve brought this on yourself.”

“You’d save me though, won’t you?” Neil said.

Andrew’s entire figure halted. His eyes narrowed when Neil met them, the redhead’s eyebrows lifting inquiringly. “No.”

Neil tilted his head, crossing his arms. “You totally would.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said, and turned back around before resuming his walk. Neil rolled his eyes and followed him with easy step.

He didn’t know how long they walked before they broke out of the mass of trees and into a grassy downturn, at the feet of which shallow waves were lazily bracing a shore.

“How the hell did we get here,” Neil said, stopping in his place. Andrew stopped a few feet away from him and looked ahead at the wide, open sea, which glistened in the uprising sun. If Neil ignored the crazy night that they’ve had and the fact they were still, technically, on the run from kidnappers — assuming the bunnies haven’t killed them — then this was a good view. The sky was orange and pink and stained with clouds; the waters were calm, and a few ships dotted the horizon. There was no harbour, though; there wasn’t anything, to be exact, except for a small, wooden cabin, and a canoe parked by it.

At the sight of the canoe, Neil’s luck initiated crisis mode, bunkered off into an unreachable corner of his spirit, and threw an awful realisation at his face. “That’s my canoe.”

He heard Andrew inhale. “Your what now.”

Neil made his way downhill until he came face to face with the canoe, and all hope that perhaps he’s misidentified his baby was gone. The wood, dark and expensive, was as worn from water and age as he’d left it; the pattern of cracks and chipped paint was painfully familiar; and, when he peered inside, he could see his initials — his real, full initials — carved into the deck plate. “Someone stole my canoe. How the hell did it get here?”

Andrew came to a stop next to him, hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t aware you had a canoe.”

“I’ve lots of things,” Neil replied absentmindedly, examining the canoe. There was no one else in sight; moreover, they haven’t come across a single living creature since bunny number one had left them, a while back, to fend for themselves. Neil straightened and glanced over his shoulder at the cabin — the lights were all off, but thin trails of smoke lazily puffed from the chimney. “Oh, come _on.”_

It seemed that someone up above has heard his wish for a vacation and executed it perfectly, only for somebody else to have, and then — and _then_ — shoved it in Neil’s face to mock him.

 _Haha, very funny_ , he thought, and kicked the canoe. _Stupid canoe. Stupid vacation._ Why did he think anything else would happen?

“Okay, if we got to the sea,” he said in an attempt to take his mind off his crushed hopes and dreams, “it means that we’re…”

“On the wrong side of the kingdom,” Andrew completed. Neil threw his head back with a groan and barely stifled the urge to scream at the heavens.

“How far away are we from civilisation?” he said instead. Up ahead, there was the sea; on all other sides, they were caged within a thick line of trees.

“If we take the… canoe,” Andrew said, eyeing said canoe warily, “and stick to the shore, we’d eventually find a harbour.”

“Or,” Neil said, an idea springing into his head.

Andrew narrowed his eyes at him. “Or?”

“You wanna go on a vacation?”

Andrew blinked at him.

“We don’t even have to go anywhere,” Neil said with a shrug, and gestured his head back. “There’s a cabin right here, a sweet canoe we could take for a ride and a forest to get lost in. It’s not like anyone’s going to find us out here.”

“That’s not necessarily a good thing,” Andrew said dryly.

“Oh, c’mon, we lost the guys,” Neil said. “They’re probably dead, or, like, traumatised for life. That shit gets to you, you know?”

“What, when a band of wild rabbits descend on you with all their fiery rage?”

“Yes!” said Neil. “You don’t just walk off something like that.”

“Because you would know.”

Neil gave him a flat look. “You know, I did almost get murdered back there.”

“You really didn’t,” Andrew said.

“And how would you know?” Neil countered. “You were on the other side of the tree! You didn’t see it. I almost lost my eye, my spirit, my—“

“Don’t continue,” Andrew said, holding up a hand. He tilted his head, looking off into the distance. “I think that’s a pirate ship.”

Neil followed his gaze, eyes landing on a ship that cruised more across the middle-distance than on the horizon itself. A flag was raised and flapping in the wind, but it was too far away for him to make out. “It could just be the marines.”

“The marines don’t use that model anymore,” Andrew said. He stepped forward until the toes of his boots brushed against the water. “It’s outdated. Very. And the flag isn’t for the marines.”

“How d’you know?”

“Wrong colour,” he said.

“You’re right,” said a feminine voice from behind them. Neil jerked and sharply turned around, only to be staring down the barrel of a gun. “The holy hell is _that_?!”

“Oh, this baby?” said the girl. She looked slightly older than him, with a messy brown braid and a red bandana keeping escaped locks out of her face. She had an open vest thrown over a baggy, white shirt, and dark breeches tucked into black cavalier boots. Her belt, thick and heavy-looking, sported a standard sword-sheath and two holsters, one of which was empty. “She’s your doom.”

Neil blinked thrice, before saying, “I get _that_ , but—what is it?”

“You never seen a revolver?” she said, eyebrows crunched in a puzzled frown.

“They’re prototypes,” Andrew whispered to him. “A shipment of firearms was tampered with a few months ago before arriving at the castle; a dozen crates went missing. We couldn’t find the culprit.”

“Guess I solved the mystery for you,” Neil whispered back. His whole body held rigid, and he didn’t look away from the firearm pointed at him. “What’s the fatality rate?”

“At this range? A hundred precent,” replied Andrew.

“Great.”

“Arnold and Archer, as always, are highly incompetent,” said the girl. She looked between the prince and the redhead, her expression shifting somewhat when she met Neil’s eyes. “Not only did they stir off plan to grant the prince unwarranted company, but I see that they’ve also managed to lose both the prince _and_ his company.”

“You’re in cahoots with those two?” Neil asked incredulously. Luck, come back, you _coward_. “I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Smooth,” said Andrew.

“Shut up.”

The girl’s eyes darted between the two, looking effectively unimpressed. “You two done?”

“I wish,” Andrew said. Neil scowled at him, still tracking the revolver from his periphery.

The girl’s features morphed into seriousness, apparently done playing games. “Get in the canoe.”

“Uh, no,” said Neil. Instead of replying, the girl stepped forward and held the gun an inch from his forehead. He barely resisted the reflex to step back; it wouldn’t help him, anyway, with the canoe blocking his path.

“Say that again,” she said.

Neil lifted his hands in surrender and stepped into the canoe. She then gestured for Andrew to follow, not taking her aim off of Neil. Andrew complied and sat down on the row behind the redhead, posture surprisingly calm. Maybe it meant Andrew had a plan. He hoped so. “It’s not very lawful of you to steal a canoe, you know.”

The girl sat in the row opposite him, gun still steadily trained on his head. “Because kidnapping you is peak citizen lawfulness. Start paddling.”

“You kidnap a man, take his canoe, assign him to do the heavy lifting,” Neil murmured, picking up a paddle. “Is that the world’s definition of dark comedy?”

“It’s the world’s the definition of if you keep talking, I’m going to blow a hole through your head,” snapped the girl. She seemed agitated; kept sneaking glances into the distance, at what Neil was now positively convinced was a pirate ship. He would’ve never guessed that their original kidnappers were pirates; but this girl clearly was, and she was _pissed_. Damn, he didn’t want to die by the hands of pirates. Pirates were nasty.

He started paddling. “Where’s the second paddle?”

“Gone,” she said, fingers clutching the edge of the canoe. He contemplated tipping the whole thing over just to spite her, but feared that a sudden motion like that could set off the revolver.

And so, he paddled on in silence; left, right, left, right, muscle memory kicking in. Shortly enough, the pirate ship became an actual ship rather than just a vague shape in the distance, and he could hear the calls and cries of the crew as they noticed the canoe’s approach.

Then the canoe was hauled up onto the ship, and Neil felt his fate being sealed. Objectively, he knew that disembarking a pirate ship would be decidedly harder than embarking it; and maybe, just maybe, he started hoping for that rescue.

He exchanged a look with Andrew, who had his features schooled into indifference. Was this a common occurrence for the second prince? But then again, he wasn’t currently the second prince as much as he was the heir to the crown, seeing as nobody has spotted the difference so far.

Was that also a common occurrence? With Andrew and Aaron being identical twins, Neil wondered how often Andrew was thrown under the metaphorical canoe for his brother’s sake. He didn’t like the odds that his mind conjured up.

As a pirate was tying his hands up, Neil leaned toward Andrew and whispered, “I hope you have a plan.”

Andrew’s faint downturn of the lips did nothing to reassure him. “I’m working on it.”

Neil jerked when a tight knot pulled at his skin.

“You ain’t getting off this ship anytime soon, Little Red,” said the pirate at his back. Neil shot him a sharp glare, before he and Andrew, who now also had his hands tied, were dragged under-deck and thrown into a dark room. “No-one will find you.”

And then the door slammed shut, the click of the lock echoing in the dark space.

To Andrew, Neil said, “work faster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Neil's garage sale.
> 
> Okay okay I'm kidding. But that canoe really was his. As always, thank you so much for reading and for the feedbacks, I love those. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter :)


	12. Chapter 12

_Back in the Clarinesian Castle, a Mere Half-Hour After Aaron’s Board Meeting_

Riko skipped gleefully into the library, dismissive of Jean’s tired drag of the feet after him. A light hum rested on his lips, some childhood hymn that he’s heard back when his life still had a shred of hope and meaning — which had both disappeared to some unknown place during his adolescent years, and have yet to return.

The source of his giddiness was truly unexplainable.

Truly.

Perhaps, it was due to the seamless manner with which he’s managed to slip away from the ball, not long after the newly betrothed organiser ditched it, himself. Yes, it was _that_ boring. Andrew storming from the ballroom with Neil hot on his heels was the last bit of action in that room tonight. Nobody else was scandalous enough for Riko’s tastes; he didn’t have dirt on any of them, hardly even recognised half the faces, and so he had no way of entertaining himself. The only solution left was to down more alcohol than would be advisable, get rejected from dancing by a few girls who he was sure would fill up with remorse tomorrow, and ditch the party.

And now, positively drunk and skipping gleefully, he made his way to his only source of comfort in the whole wide world. The only thing other than alcohol that could drown his sorrows and endless misery. The only thing in life he could still hold onto; trust in; believe in. Riko wasn’t a man of faith; his life was too miserable for that.

Riko was a man of herbs.

And no, that didn’t usually mean drug-dealer.

His boot caught in the edge of the rug and he tripped, staggering before barely steadying himself. “J- _ean_ ,” he whined, haphazardly attempting to smooth the rug with the sole of his boot and succeeding only in messing it up further, “where _are_ you. You’re supposed to watch my back.”

“Are you in imminent danger?” asked the frenchman, tone dull and even.

“ _Yes!_ ” exclaimed Riko, kicking at the rug. He half-leaned his hip against the vacant reception desk, glaring with utmost disdain at nothing in particular. “I—I’ve almost been _assassinated_ by the _government_!”

“Your highness, you’re the government,” said Jean.

“I’m nothing more than a stranger in a strange land,” announced the drunken prince, gesturing wildly around him. “Surrounded by enemies in enemy territory, under enemy fire, in the hands of the enemy!”

“We have a peace contract with Clarines, Prince Riko,” said Jean. “And we’re here by invitation from the Minyard royal family. I assure you, they mean you no harm.”

“Oh, that’s what they _want_ you to think,” chuckled Riko. He pushed himself away from the desk, took a second — or two or three, who’s counting, anyway — to steady himself, and then started walking toward the botany section. “Everyone means everyone harm in this dog eat dog world.”

He dragged his hand from shelf to shelf as he staggered toward the very end of the massive library, to the most forgotten and seemingly-boring shelf of the botany section. With his vision wavering — or maybe it was his head, who knew — his hand hovered over the different volumes, until it stopped over a book-spine that stood out from the rest.

This shelf seemed to contain a complete collection of outdated botanic encyclopaedias, the one he had as child and had been passed down across generations in his family. The books were ragged and inaccurate, half the facts in them having been proven to be unbiased speculations and the other half to be outright mistakes. And yet, the sight of their navy, dull spines, their standard hight, and their meticulous arrangement — those things brought joy to Riko’s cold, dead heart. And what else would a drunken, hopeless prince of a kingdom in shambles, trapped in the hands of the once’ve-been or soon-to-be enemy, want? A bunch of books about herbs.

But there was a book amid the shelf that clearly did not belong in there. It was wider and shorter than the rest, its spine bearing no inscription, its leather — where the rest were not — standing out in a startling brown colour.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Riko pulled the book out.

Only to have it getting stuck on something. Riko tugged at it harder, but it was stuck in a forty-five degree angle from the shelf, unrelenting. Riko grabbed it with two hands, and then tried bracing one foot against the shelf, but the book didn’t come out.

Then, something in the shelf clicked.

Riko let go of the book, nudging the suddenly-disjoined part of the shelf open and peering into the darkness inside.

But before he could go in to investigate, all the lights in the library died down, before rising again in a sharp and sudden red. And then the alarms began to blare.

“ _Jean_?!” Riko called over his shoulder, freezing in his place.

“I’m right here, Your Highness. Please don’t yell,” Jean said from right behind Riko. The prince jumped, jostling out of his stupefaction, and glanced to and fro.

“What’s going on?” he exclaimed. The alarms blared around them in circles, dying down and then rising back up again, disorienting the already disoriented prince until he practically slammed himself agains the shelf.

When a swarm of armed guards came into view, led by the captain of the royal guard, Riko found himself relaxing. “Hey, cap!” Riko said. “Where’s the intruder?”

“Apprehend him,” said the captain, addressing his guards and gesturing at… wait, could it be?

Riko tried stumbling back only to discover he couldn’t, not without plunging into the darkness of the secret passageway he has accidentally uncovered. “What are you _doing_? Jean!”

Jean took a combat stance in front of Riko, unsheathing his sword. “What’s your business with Prince Riko?”

“Our Prince has been kidnapped,” said the captain. “We have information that Prince Riko is responsible.”

Riko squeaked as the guards bypassed Jean and reached for him, handcuffs at the ready.

“Surrender and we will consider an eased punishment,” continued the captain of the guard. Jean eyed him warily, not putting up much of a resistance at all. “After a fair investigation, of course.”

“Unhand me!” Riko shrieked as a guard grabbed his arm and roughly turned him around. “I’m innocent! This is the first I’ve heard about it!”

“Really,” the captain said wryly, crossing his arms. “Then do explain, Prince Riko — what were you doing by the secret passageway, leading into the secret tunnels under the castle, which have been created for the purpose of escaping it under duress?”

Riko squawked, eyes wide as the cuffs clicked into place around his wrists. “I—I had no idea! I swear! I swear it on Jean’s life!”

“Prince Riko,” Jean sighed, sheathing his sword. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I take it that now would be a bad time to announce my resignation.”

“Yes, _it would be_!”

Jean gave the captain of the royal guard a tired look. “Could you take it from here?”

The captain gave Jean a sympathetic nod and patted him on the shoulder as he passed by. “Of course, Jean. I see you’ve taken our conversation to heart.”

“I have,” agreed Jean. “I’ve realised that, as you said, I deserve better in my life. And so I will join your royal guard.”

“I’m thrilled to hear that,” grinned the captain. “I’ll arrange a position for you by the end of the night. And on that note,” he turned to face Riko. “Throw him in the dungeons.”

Riko inhaled sharply. “Do you even know who I _am_?! I will not accept such treatment!”

“If you ever manage to clear your name, we would gladly apologise,” said the captain. “For the time being, to the dungeons you go.”

“I’m a _prince_!” Riko screamed as he was dragged into the darkness of the secret passage. “Why are we going into the tunnels leading _away_ from the castle?!”

“It’s a shortcut,” the captain told Jean absentmindedly. “Takes half the time to get there, through here. We don’t usually use it because the rats tend to escape, but since it’s already been opened…”

“Smart,” Jean nodded. He levelled his gaze at the captain, expression turning sincere. “Thank you, Knox.”

The captain grinned, bright and wide. “Anytime.”

***

It wasn’t long before Riko was reunited with his kind.

He let out a stream of curses unbecoming of his title and as filthy as the cell he’d been thrown in. He was deeply, mortally insulted; they’d thrown him in there, laughed in his face as they’d locked the door, and then just _left_ him. All alone. In a dark, filthy cell, infested with rats.

Riko mourned the shine of his boots and his sense of smell, unable to get rid of his skin’s constant bristling. The rats pattered about along the cell’s dark corners, too cowardly to come to the light; afraid of him, he was sure. It didn’t matter that his insides were about to deteriorate in fear and disgust. They couldn’t know that.

Could they?

“Oh, God,” he mumbled, hugging his expensive, royal jacket close to himself. “What if they can smell my fear?”

“They can,” said a hoarse, female voice, and Riko yelped and turned around, trying to find its source. “First time here, I bet?”

“Show yourself!” shrieked the prince.

A hand gripped his shoulder, and Riko let out a high-pitched scream and slammed his palms blindly around him. The hand let go, accompanied by a low chuckle and the shuffle of shoes. There was a distinct clanking of chains. “Quite the scaredy cat, aren’t you?”

“Who are you?” exclaimed Riko, raising his forearms, his hands defensively flat. There was a figure behind him, leaning against the cold brick wall of the cell, her arms crossed across her chest.

“I don’t remember anymore,” the stranger replied, voice grave. Riko felt his blood run cold.

“How long have you been in here?”

The stranger shrugged. “Weeks, months. Years, perhaps. I’ve lost count.”

Riko stared, eyes wide. A few seconds of heavy silence passed, before the stranger snickered and lowered her head. “I’m messing with you, kid.”

If asked, Riko would vehemently deny the relief that washed over him at the words. “I’m not a _kid_ ,” he said, straightening pretentiously. “My name is Riko Moriyama — but you must’ve heard of me. I’m the crown prince of Tanbarun.”

The stranger let out a low whistle. “Damn, kid. What did you do to land yourself in here? Kill the prince?”

Riko scowled. “I’ve done nothing at all. I’ve been wrongfully accused.”

“That sucks,” said the stranger.

“Indeed it does, since none of those _knuckleheads_ even bothered listening to me!” Riko’s voice rose with every word, as if trying to reach the guards, wherever they’ve gone to. “A man accidentally opens a secret passageway, and suddenly he’s a murderer! Where’s the sense in that?!”

“How did you manage to accidentally open it?” the stranger asked, sincere curiosity in her voice.

“Video game logic, apparently,” Riko muttered under his breath. “In any case. This is unacceptable! Absolutely outrageous. My reputation would never recover!”

“Your… reputation,” said the stranger.

“Indeed,” said Riko. “My impeccable reputation!”

“Your impeccable reputation,” repeated the stranger once again, the sardonic edge to her voice completely lost on Riko.

“Yes!” exclaimed that. “My impeccable reputation, which I’ve spent the better part of a decade carefully constructing! All to go down the drain on account of unbiased accusations. It’s unheard of. Better yet; this is injustice!”

That was when a new, distorted voice echoed throughout the cell. “ _Okay, that’s enough_.”

Riko started, looking up. “Is anyone there?”

“ _Hey, would you look at that_ ,” the voice said cheerily, now easily recognisable as belonging to the captain of the royal guard. “ _Our new, prototyped speaker-system is working! Terrific._ ”

“ _Nothing_ about this is _terrific_!” Riko screamed. “Get me out of here this instant!”

“ _Now, now,_ ” said the voice. “ _Let’s all take a deep breath. In…_ ” a distorted inhale echoed throughout the cell, “ _and out. In…_ ” another distorted inhale, “ _and out. Now that we’re all calm and civil, let’s begin the investigation._ ”

“Jeremy, are you going to let me out of here anytime soon?” the stranger asked the ceiling.

“ _Yes, Laila, in a minute_.”

The stranger pouted. “It stinks in here.”

“Wait, you know this crazy guy?” Riko said, turning to the stranger — Laila, apparently. She stepped out of the shadows, and Riko could now see that she was wearing the Clarinesian royal-guard uniform. He inhaled sharply. “You’re _with_ them? You tricked me!”

“Unnecessarily, too, as it turns out,” she said, lifting her head up. “I told you it wouldn’t work, Jeremy!”

“ _I’ve heard they use this technique in prisons overseas,_ ” Jeremy’s distorted voice replied. “ _It could save us the hassle of an investigation, in the cases where the accused tends to overshare._ ”

Riko gasped.

“ _And so, on to the investigation we go! First question—_ “

“Are we going to do this over the speaker-system?” Riko inquired, voice cautious. “It sounds needlessly complicated.”

“ _I’ve wanted to try it out since it’s been installed three months ago, but the crime rates in Clarines are… well, they do not exist._ ”

“What a shame,” Riko said flatly.

“ _It is. Okay, first question: where were you when the prince has been kidnapped?”_

“In the ballroom,” Riko said, suddenly energised. “It’s my alibi!”

“Witnesses say he’s left the ball not long after the prince had,” intervened Laila. “He could’ve overseen the kidnapping in that time.”

“ _Sounds valid_ ,” said Jeremy.

“How?!”

“ _Moving on. Second question: do you hold any grudges against Prince Andrew or against the herbalist Neil Josten?_ ”

“What does Josten have to do with any of this?” Riko said.

“ _He’s been kidnapped along with the prince. Which you should know._ ”

“Maybe he’s trying to throw you off,” suggested Laila.

“ _Sounds valid_.”

“For the thousandth time,” Riko said, “I didn’t kidnap them. I had nothing to do with this!”

“ _Then how do you explain, Prince Riko, the occasion of you poisoning prince Andrew in the past_?”

Riko paled. “What?”

“ _We’ve received an anonymous tip about a previous assassination attempt by you, which could’ve ended with Prince Andrew’s demise had he not been immune to poison._ ”

“I—I didn’t do it on purpose!” Riko blurted out. “It was meant for Neil! I _mean_ —“

“ _So we have motive,_ ” said Jeremy. “ _And accounts of past attempts. So you admit to having had a criminal history regarding Neil Josten?_ ”

“No!”

“He’s tried to kidnap and enslave Neil,” said Laila. “That’s why Neil left Tanbarun and came here. Everyone knows about it.”

“That’s an over-exaggeration,” Riko said distastefully. “We merely had a disagreement.”

“That had Neil fleeing the kingdom,” said Laila. Riko glared at her.

“ _Frankly, just that admission would be enough to imprison Prince Riko_ ,” Jeremy said absently. “ _It’s just that we need to extract further information for the sake of finding them. So I’ll make it easy for you._ ”

Riko eyed the ceiling warily.

“ _Tell us where they’ve been taken, and we’ll consider an eased punishment_.”

“I don’t know,” Riko said.

A distorted sigh echoed throughout the cell. “ _I don’t want to have to imprison and torture you, Prince Riko. But for the sake of our kingdom’s royal blood, I might have to_.”

Riko paled further. “Honest to God, I don’t know!”

“ _I don’t want to have to do this, Prince Riko_.”

“Then don’t!” exclaimed the prince. “That’s a really simple solution for you!”

“ _I see that you’re unwilling to cooperate_ ,” Jeremy sighed. “ _It’s too bad. Laila, I’ll come get you out in a second. Prince Riko, unfortunately, I have no choice but to continue to imprison you until you come to your senses and aid the investigation_.”

“I have no idea where they are!” Riko screamed. Instead of a reply, the speaker-system emitted a low, continuous static sound. Jeremy has disconnected.

Laila shook her head disapprovingly. “And to think we used to consider you our ally.”

“I am!”

Laila shook her head again as Jeremy came into view from the other side of the cell and unlocked it. She slipped out, leaving Riko all alone with nothing but rats to accompany him, as the lock’s click echoed in the filthy air around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking around for all the ridiculousness! I appreciate all the kudos and comments very much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I wanted to thank everybody who's been following this fic. Your support gives me the motivation to continue even when I doubt myself :) Please enjoy!

The thing about being a spy that most people got wrong was the assumption that it was a high-risk, incredibly difficult job that took years and years of training, an abundant of natural talent and a willingness to become collateral, in the case where everything went horribly wrong.

The thing that people got wrong about Clarines was that everyone in it was loyal to the crown, believing there could never be such a threat to its security. This inclination to presume patriotism was what's led to there being one, single lax interview for a job position in the royal guard. Because no one would betray a kingdom that was so good to its subjects, right?

Combining these two wrongs led to a clear conclusion — resulting in a scheming snicker, a rub of the hands and a pile of slightly-manipulated evidence against a certain Riko Moriyama anonymously dropped on the captain of the royal guard’s table.

When the spy was a safe distance away, he sat down to write a letter. At dawn, he would have it sent by horse.

***

The good news were that Andrew had managed to get to the tent peg he’d kept in his pocket, and successfully got both him and Neil out of their binds.

The bad news were that the door was locked. When Neil had kicked it, he was rewarded with the thump of a heavy bolt being knocked against the other side of the wooden door, fastened far too diligently to be broken off. When Andrew, with all his five feet of rage and bulk, failed to break it down, they’ve arrived at the conclusion that for now, they could do nothing but wait.

And so they settled down, and waited.

They found an empty, beaten-up tin can and managed to light a fire in it using a bunch of papers Neil fished out of his pocket (along with a recite he didn’t seem to have noticed, hidden under his collar) and Andrew’s box of matches. They sat on the floor above the light of the small flames, huddled close to the can with stoic postures and expressions.

That day was the day Neil discovered he sucked at rock-paper-scissors.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he muttered when his scissors, once again, met their untimely demise, courtesy of Andrew’s rock and cunning smile. With the flickering flame sharpening his features, he looked like a little demon, grin all evil and mocking. Neil’s death glare, for once, almost looked threatening.

“Stop using scissors,” Andrew said, shaking his hand, as if the game was somehow physically taxing. Neil cracked his knuckles.

“Every time you tell me that, you expect me to do it," he said. "So logically, you’d use paper or scissors instead of rock. Meaning scissors would be the safe bet for me.”

“Which is why I keep doing it,” Andrew replied. “Since I know you’d think that, I do the opposite of what you think I’m going to do.”

“You mean, the opposite of the opposite of what you think _I_ would do,” Neil said. Andrew stared at him blankly, which made Neil sigh and drop his head. His hair, having grown into a wild little fringe, fell on his forehead, looking like a fire of its own kind above the candlelight. It’s lost all the elegance Andrew’s arranged it into before the ball.

Those hours before the ball were so much simpler. Life had seemed easier — Aaron wasn’t getting married; they weren’t captives of crazy pirates; they haven’t yet been traumatised by rabid rabbits, or, in Neil’s case, devastated by the knowledge of their rock-paper-scissors ineptitude. Who would’ve thought? Especially considering Neil was so good with gardening tools.

He leaned his hands against the floor, deeming to take a break from the crushing sense of failure the game was giving him. There was only so much disappointment a man could take. Even one that was used to it. “So, how long do you think we’re going to be kept down here?”

“Until we reach a country we’ve never heard of,” said Andrew.

“I’m pretty good at geography, though.”

Andrew quirked an eyebrow, expression dry. “Are you?”

Neil nodded resolutely. “I have the world map memorised. Or, at least, the one that was accurate when I was eleven.”

Andrew tilted his head, considering. “These pirates will have to discover a new continent, then.”

“So you’re saying we’re doomed.”

Andrew hummed, not seeming too bothered by that. The sheer amount of time they’ve been left down here was enough to dry up their anxiety, and by this point they were both simply bored. What day was it? What was the weather? The only constant was the rocking of the ship, the sound of waves hitting its bodice; they haven’t once docked.

And man, was it getting stuffy in here.

They’ve spent another unknown amount of time in the company of each other. They’ve abandoned rock-paper-scissors in favour of a display of knife tricks, which Andrew performed using the tent peg. Once the flames died down, drenching them back in darkness, they’ve abandoned that too. They were talking in quiet, almost inaudible tones of anything and everything — Andrew telling tales of his childhood in the castle, Neil sharing tragedies from his past on the run from his father — when a low hush of unfamiliar voices carried down from outside.

They fell quiet, straining to make sense of the turn of the conversation.

“Picking up our trail, you say?” said a pirate with a deep voice.

“Not yet, but Cap' says they will, soon,” replied another, his voice pitchy. Neil would guess he was battling puberty; maybe a kid of one of the other pirates. “Rumour says the court has taken the Moriyama prince in as a primary suspect.”

Neil tensed at the name. One of his theories had him believing Riko was responsible for their kidnapping, since he usually was the guy to blame when things went oh so horribly wrong; but these pirates didn’t talk of him like an acquaintance, much less an accomplice or an employer.

“What does Ryan say?” asked the deep-voiced pirate.

“All clear, for now,” replied the other. “The evidence had been planted, and they suspect neither him nor the truth. They’re still trying to get their location out of the prince.”

“Which he won’t be able to say.”

“Obviously.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Neil leaned forward, eager to hear what it would be. They’ve been left in the dark for too long.

But, good ol’ fashioned common sense seemed to have suddenly gripped the two blabbermouths, and their voices lowered enough so that their conversation no longer reached the cellar. Neil let out an agitated sigh, and, in leaning back again, accidentally knocked over the tin can.

He and Andrew both froze as the hum of conversation died down, soon to be followed by footsteps approaching the door.

Andrew rose to his feet, clutching the peg like a knife and inching toward the walls. Neil picked up the can to throw it, if need be, and stepped away from the door.

There was a rattle and bustle as the pirates unlatched the bolt, and then sudden bright light washed into the room, dazzling the redhead. He barely saw the pirate, more a shadow against the light than a man, open his mouth, before Andrew lunged at him.

There were noises of scuffle, the sudden light and movement after such a long static swarming Neil with confusion. He registered a foreign hand grabbing his shoulder and threw a blind punch, the crack of a nose breaking echoing in the cellar as he scrambled back — no, forward — toward the source of the light.

A handful of moments later, he and Andrew were panting and bolting the heavy wooden door shut with a lock and a plank. Neil stumbled back as furious pounding and shouts braced the air from inside, while Andrew made sure the barricades would hold.

“Let’s get out of this hellhole,” Neil said.

They ran upstairs to the deck to face the break of daylight.

In hindsight, Neil supposed it was a pretty stupid move, considering they had no weapons — save a peg and a tin can — and were on a _pirate ship_. But what else were they supposed to do?

***

“We can’t keep waiting around for him to talk, evidence or no evidence,” Aaron said, pacing back and forth across the boardroom. He then abruptly stopped, looking right at Jeremy. “He’s either incredibly stubborn, or he genuinely knows nothing. We don’t have the time to figure out which one it is.”

“My guards are scouring the land as we speak,” said Jeremy, calmly seated by the table. “Without any valid suspects, the leads are scarce.”

“They can’t have dropped off the face of the earth!” Aaron snapped. He closed his eyes, running his hands through his hair a couple of times. There were dark circles under his eyes. “Just. Use whichever means available. I want no stone left unturned; go out to sea, if you have to.”

Nobody noticed the way that the straw-haired guard by the doorway tensed.

“If that’s a command, sir,” agreed Jeremy, inclining his head. “We’ll find them, sooner or later.”

“If they’re still alive,” said someone. Aaron turned cold eyes to him, and the guard who’s spoken up cowered back. “Sir.”

“They’re alive,” Jeremy slowly said. “If someone were to assassinate the prince, they’d want the credit. The entire kingdom would know.”

“But the redhead?” challenged the guard. “What’s his name?”

“Neil,” said Aaron. “He’s alive. Andrew would rather burn himself on a stick before letting anything happen to him.”

That was when someone — a messenger, carrying a scroll and a frantic look in his eyes — broke into the boardroom. As soon as he was inside, he stopped and bent to lean his palms against his knees, gasping and panting. “Your Highness—Prince—Aaron,” he said, quickly gathering his breath and straightening into a semblance of composure clearly faked. “The Claw of the Sea has been sighted.”

The guard by the door, the one with the straw-coloured hair, paled. It would have been suspicious, had the rest of the room not done the same. Jeremy’s eyes widened, and he caught Aaron’s gaze as that looked to him, just as bewildered.

And that was when the messenger concluded his message. “We have reason to believe they might have the prince.”

The room fell silent and still, before breaking into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I can't even contain my excitement for the next few chapters. It's going to be so much fun! (well, for some of us... mainly me. hehe. Sorry Neil, you get the short stick of life). Anyway. Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

If Neil hadn’t been sure of that before, now he knew without a lick of doubt: pirates sucked.

Like, really, really sucked.

That was the sentiment repeatedly going in circles in his head as he duelled against a one-eyed pirate (he assumed the eye under the eyepatch was missing, but he wouldn’t judge if it wasn’t; Neil wasn’t a stranger to disagreeable fashion phases), doing his best not to get toppled overboard and into the deep dark ocean.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t all that deep and dark, considering they were only a few miles away from the shore; but Neil knew from experience how cold the Clarinesian waters could be, regardless of the season. And with the amount of pirates aboard, if he didn’t immediately get shot and left for the sharks, he would probably be fished out with a net like a damn mermaid.

Now, how did he end up in this predicament?

It depended on when Neil started to answer from. For one thing, he was pretty sure his birth was a mistake, and it’s only gone downhill from there. It was a long history of horrors, and disappointments, and paranoia; his father’s fault, his mother’s fault, the fault of the world around him and the family he’d been born into. His name and his hair have always attracted enemies — that is, until one bright, sunny day, his father had been murdered, and Neil became free of the faults of his own existence.

And then Riko, the motherfucker, had to go and ruin _everything_.

So when it came down to it, responsible for the kidnapping or not, Riko was undoubtedly the one to blame. If it weren’t for him, Neil never would’ve left Tanbarun; he never would’ve befriended the Clarinesian second prince, and, consequently, interrupted the said prince’s kidnapping, only to get kidnapped right along with him. Had Neil never gotten kidnapped, he never would’ve found himself on a pirate ship, fending off a probably one-eyed pirate with a damned burrowed sword in his hand.

Neil swore in time with the defensive jabs of his sword. His tailbone hit the ship’s ledge, and suddenly he had his forearms raised and pressed to his body, blocking the hard shove of the enemy’s blade with his own. Neil grit his teeth, locking eyes — eye? — with the pirate, and with one swift motion disarmed him. The sword clattered aside, and Neil took advantage of the pirate’s fleeting distraction to change their positions, promptly shoving the man overboard.

There was a trailing yell, cut off by a splash of water.

So, yeah. Previously, upon ascending from the cellar onto the deck, Neil had immediately gotten decked in the face by an angry pirate. And they were all so _angry_ ; listen, Neil knew that life could be tough and unfair, and he could understand how getting eyes and hands chopped off could feel like a sign from the heavens that one’s fate was to become a pirate — but why couldn’t there be any cheery pirates? Was murder and rum really the only thing that could ever lift their spirits?

Anyhow. After Neil had gotten decked, Andrew had stabbed the pirate with the peg. Seeing as it was a quality peg, there’d been no hope of retracting it to further use as a weapon; in the heat of the moment and with a swarm of pirates charging at them, they’d each found themselves with a sword, locked in a duel, and started methodically shoving the angry, angry pirates overboard. Neil didn’t know if it was a code of pirate honour or what, but he’s always had to fend off just one pirate at the time. He didn’t know what the rest of them were doing. Watching? Calling for help? Attending to piratey errands on different parts of the ship? But he hadn’t complained. It’s given him the time to internally monologue.

Once all the pirates aboard were either down or not so aboard anymore, Neil advanced toward the captain’s cabin to gather incriminating evidence — mainly, why the heck have they been kidnapped, since the pirates clearly weren’t interested in ransom — and also to see what shiny and expensive things were hoarded in a captain’s cabin. Ever since he was little, Neil had this odd dream to see one of those cabins; he didn’t know if it was the books he’s read or the stories his mother’s told him, but he’s always thought there was something _magic_ about those cabins, something that could be found absolutely nowhere else.

It was safe to say that upon entering the captain’s cabin, Neil was underwhelmed. There were windows, but their wooden sills were chapped and rotten from water and age. There was a table, but it had all these finance-related papers on it; that was enough for any sort of magic to be instantly killed, even considering this was a pirate’s ship and the taxes were probablythose evaded and not those payed.

For any consolation, the bookcase looked nice.

Neil riffled through the stacks of paper in search for clues, but before he could find anything, the cabin’s door slammed shut.

He raised his head and froze.

The captain, in all her pissed off glory, was standing in front of the closed door with her gun trained on him. “Howdy, hostage.”

Some of the tension drained away from his posture. “I could say the same to you.”

The captain quirked an amused eyebrow, eyes lowering to the gun she was holding before locking eyes with him again. “Is that so?”

"Oh, definitely.” Neil spread his arms across the desk, leaning forward against it. He grinned innocently. “You could ask your crew.”

“My crew might as well just be a stack of parrots,” she dismissively said. “I have no need for a crew for this to be completed.”

“What’s this _this_?”

“A message,” she said. “That those of blue blood rank no higher than us commoners.”

“By that logic, I’m on your side,” Neil said. He took about him the made nonchalance of an ally; from the corner of his eye, he saw a sword leaning against the desk, out of the captain’s view, and inched toward it. Totally nonchalant. “I’m no blue blood.”

“Normally, I would believe you,” she said. “The rumours paint you as the perfect underdog. An innocent herbalist, chased away from home because of the whims of a selfish prince.” She bared her teeth, the gesture more primal than friendly. “But that’s not the whole truth, is it?”

Neil gave her a curious look, inching closer toward the sword. He could now reach for it, if he were quick enough to retaliate. He just needed an opening. “It is the truth,” he said.

Neil was about to get a hold of the sword when the captain stepped forward. “Not completely, Wesninski.”

Neil could feel the blood draining from his face, arm half outstretched to the sword.

“That’s right,” said the captain. Her smile was vicious now, unconcerned. And why would she be? She had him pinned right where she wanted him. “I know who you are.”

“How?” was all Neil managed to get out, his throat constricting. Where the hell did all the air go?

The captain chuckled, the gun wavering. “ _Please_. How many people do you see running around with bright red hair? And even if there was anyone, your eyes are a striking image of your father’s.”

“You know my father,” he said. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears; it had a predatory edge to it, easily dissected to be defensive. He had to force himself not to step away from the desk.

“I knew of him,” she specified. “Back in the day, everyone did.”

“Every lowlife and criminal, you mean,” Neil coldly said. She smiled.

“Yeah, that. Now,” she lowered her gun, and, to Neil’s surprise, put it down on the table. He didn’t move to get it. “Let’s make a deal.”

His eyes narrowed. She didn’t want to kill him?

She seemed to have taken his silence as a sign to continue. “You and your obnoxious prince surrender,” she said. “You won’t try to escape again. In return, I won’t tell him about your…” she smacked her lips. “ _Questionable_ heritage.”

“He doesn’t care,” Neil said.

“That’s why you haven’t told him your real name?” she countered. “You know, I think you’re scared he’ll find out. Because then the cat’s out, right? Word will reach the court, and once it does, there are only two ways for it to end.”

Neil didn’t react, but she didn’t care.

“One,” she said, “the king sentences you to the fate your father should’ve had.”

“Execution,” Neil blurted.

“Execution,” she confirmed. “Or, word reaches those you’ve been hiding from. Because you _are_ , still, hiding, aren’t you? Poor little red riding hood, always running from the big bad wolf.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, stepping away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do,” she said. “And I know what you’ll do.”

The cold glare he gave her would’ve made his father proud.

Shortly later, she had him stepping out of the cabin with her pointing the gun to his head, and Andrew immediately surrendered. It wasn’t long before the knocked-out pirates began to stir; before long, the crew was back to what it’s used to be, minus one or two drowned pirates that haven’t been salvaged from the waters.

By the time a pigeon came to them, carrying an envelope from the spy, Neil and Andrew were both gagged and bound to the central mast, being watched at all times by two and a half sets of eyes. Yeah, that one-eyed pirate wasn’t about to get Neil out of his sight.

Storm clouds started to gather overhead. As the sea began to rise, they could do nothing but wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chants* drama drama DRAMA
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Next chapter, a rescue will come... what could possibly go wrong?


	15. Chapter 15

The captain of The Claw of the Sea had had no time for fighting, so she’d enlisted the classic move: bullshitting her way out of confrontation using blackmail. The Wesninski kid had been too busy internalising his panic to realise her own distress; by some course of miracle, he’d complied, and had politely let himself and the Minyard prince be tied to the mast, all the while she ran around trying to prepare the ship for an emergency embark.

It was really all too lucky that her idiot kidnappers have accidentally taken the redhead; although she’d been initially aggravated by their non-existent decision-making process, she had to admit that having the embodiment of an Achilles’ heel had its uses. Not to mention that she was now the first to know that the crown prince of Clarines, who’s just announced his betrothment to a royal lady, had an affair.

She sighed dreamily, thinking of all the blackmail options she had. She thought of all the chaos she could bring with this scandal. The options presented to her were ones she, as a little girl, used to fantasise about: she would either get filthy-fucking-rich, or she would bring the entire kingdom down in flames.

Ahh. That sweet, sweet feeling made piracy seem like a good idea all over again.

But right now, it was still too early to open her safe and get the artisan to depict the moment. Before she could do that — and trust her, she absolutely will — she had to make sure she still had a prince in her custody to blackmail.

Ryan, her mole, had sent her an emergency pigeon shortly before she’s arrived at the ship, with the information that their cover’s been blown, their location found, and the entire royal guard was coming to rain hell down on them. It was slightly disconcerting, which was why she was currently yelling at different crew members to get their asses going and, “get this bloody ship as far away from the docks fucking _yesterday_! I want to forget what the ground even _looks_ like!”

But her stupid crew wasn’t fast enough, because _of course_ it wouldn’t be. It wasn’t too long before she noticed the massive royal vessel approaching them from the shore; its flag was raised high, the cannons were out and the deck was visibly packed with armed royal guards. The gesture was clear: try and run away, and we will sink your ship.

She didn’t think they really would, considering the kingdom’s crown prince was on it, and tendency toward fratricide was the one thing she wouldn’t accuse the Minyard family of — but you never know. If worse came to worst, they did, after all, have a clone of him.

You know, technically.

She squinted. Maybe she should’ve kidnapped both of them.

But it was too late — or rather, too early — for introspection. She had more pressing issues; like, for example, how the hell she was planning to get out of this corner that they’ve sailed themselves into. Damn Ryan should have sent an eagle or something! The misgivings of Clarinesian pigeons were practically legendary — not only did they tend to get lost or fly into windows, and lampposts, and buildings, and anything really — but they also oftentimes sent their messages to _the wrong damn people_.

Stupid pigeons.

The captain took a deep breath, trying to anchor herself back in reality. She wasn’t panicking or anything. She had a contingency plan, and a contingency plan to the contingency plan, as any self-respecting pirate would have. Everything was under control.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. She raised her voice and yelled, “okay, crew! _Listen up_!”

The pirates of The Claw of The Sea all stopped whatever they were doing and looked to her. She didn’t miss the way her hostages’ eyes snapped to her, as well; she held her head high, and looked from one pirate to the next with the air of nonchalant confidence. “We’re respectful pirates,” she said. “As long as there are negotiations—“ the prince squinted at that— “no one opens fire. You are to attack only in retaliation, and only on my say so.”

***

_Meanwhile, on That Approaching Clarinesian Royal Vessel_

“You are to open fire upon first contact!” announced Aaron, raising his sword high. Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but Aaron gestured for him to stand down. “Negotiation with pirates is void. We all know they won’t listen to the voice of reason.”

Jeremy gave a sigh and stood up. “Our objective is to rescue Andrew,” he said. “Make sure we don’t accidentally assassinate our own in the crossfire.”

“What do you mean, rescue _Andrew_?” blurted the straw-haired guard. His hand shot up to cover his mouth, his cheeks going bright red.

The entire royal guard turned to give him a puzzled look. Even Jeremy frowned.

“My brother,” Aaron dryly said, sword lowering slightly. “Your second prince?”

“Ohh,” trailed the guard. “Right. That prince.”

“What other prince is there?” a fellow guard wryly remarked. A round of snickers went about the deck, and the straw-haired guard inclined his head in embarrassment.

Or in something else.

Either way, the vessel was getting closer and closer to the pirate ship, which didn’t seem to try and make its escape.

“Even if they feign coming in peace,” proclaimed Aaron, “do not fall for their trickery. As soon as our guard lowers, they will attack us, or maybe even kill Neil and Andrew.”

“And remember the objective!” added Jeremy. “We are not here today to take them down. Maybe another day, we’ll come to do just that—but today, we’re here to rescue our own. Don’t get distracted.”

The guards expressed their understanding, and as the plank between the ships was set down, they unsheathed their weapons.

***

“They’re going to attack them, aren’t they?” Neil whispered to Andrew.

“Yep,” replied that, popping the _p_.

“And the pirates are going to kill them.”

“They’re going to try,” Andrew said, his voice rather calm. “But they won’t succeed.”

“Because the royal guard is professional and highly trained?”

Andrew made a so-so gesture with his head. “Sometimes. You know, when it doesn’t rain, and the heat wave has passed, and the ground has evened down, etcetera etcetera.”

“That’s reassuring,” Neil said, glancing at the dark clouds gathered overhead. “I feel safer already.”

Andrew inclined his head, concealing his face from Neil’s view. “You worry too much, Junkie.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Neil deadpanned. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It’s not like I got kidnapped by pirates or anything.”

“If it weren’t for you surrendering out of the blue, we would be out of here already,” Andrew remarked. “But it doesn’t matter. I can take them down.”

“All of them,” Neil said.

“Aha.”

“On your own?”

“I did it once already.”

Neil scowled. “Oh, you did, did you?”

Andrew turned to look him dead in the eye, expression somber. “Yep.”

“You know what? _Next_ time we fight pirates, I _will_ let you do all the dirty work. On your own. And then after the _entire pirate crew_ takes you down and throws you in the ocean,” he inhaled, “I’ll find your body and bury you, only so that I can piss on your grave for not appreciating my skills when you were alive.”

A look of consideration crossed Andrew’s features, before settling into blankness. “Touché.”

“Yes, tou-fucking-ché,” Neil replied.

“Hey, shut it,” snapped the one-eyed pirate, kicking the mast. Neil gave him a dry glance.

“Or what, asshat?”

Andrew sighed.

The one eyed-pirate crouched in front of Neil, drawing a dagger out of a small sheathe attached to his belt. He leaned closer until Neil could feel his breath on his face; he instinctually tried to pull back, but it wasn’t very possible, seeing as there was a mast at his back.

The pirate grinned, letting the blade rest under Neil’s eye. Not pressing; just resting. “‘Cap didn’t say she needed you healthy and happy, ya’ know.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed. “I’m never happy.”

“I can vouch for that,” Andrew said.

“I said _shut it_!” the pirate snapped. The notion made the knife break skin, and Neil winced as he felt blood trickle down his cheek. “Or I take your friend’s eye out.”

“And then we can be twinsies,” Neil said with a lazy grin. “We could wear matching eyepatches and everything.”

The pirate gave Neil such a death-glare that for a hot second Neil thought he might actually go through with his threat. But before the pirate could, you know, ruin Neil’s life more than it was already in shambles, the sound of trumpets cut through the air.

The pirate sighed and climbed to his feet, sheathing his dagger. “I’m not through with you, Little Red.”

“Is anyone ever, really?” Neil said.

“On second thought, I think I’ll just kill you now,” the pirate said, starting forward — only to be pulled back by dear ol’ ‘Cap herself.

“You would do no such thing,” she said. “Not only do we need them alive for ransom, we need them alive so we wouldn’t all immediately be slaughtered.”

“With all due respect, ‘Cap,” said the pirate, glancing back at the guards flooding the royal ship, “I don’t reckon we’ll be getting any ransom anytime soon.”

“Patience,” she said. “All with due time. Right, Red?”

She locked eyes with Neil, whose smile faded. A snarl tugged at the edges of his lips instead. “Fuck off.”

She shook her head, and left without another word. Neil followed her from the corner of his eye, up until she stood next to the plank over which Aaron approached, accompanied by a dozen-or-so guards.

She couldn’t even get a word out before all hell broke loose.

***

Kevin broke away from the center of the fighting, next to the ship’s ledge, and crept closer to the mast onto which Neil and Andrew were tied. It seemed that in all the chaos, they’ve been forgotten, no pirate to stand guard.

“Kevin!” Neil exclaimed. “I’ve never been this happy to see you in my _life_. Cut my ropes.”

“Hey, Kevin,” Kevin bitterly said, starting to saw at the ropes with his sword. “How you been doing? How’s life in Tanbarun? The wife? The kids?”

“You don’t have a wife and kids,” Neil said as the ropes fell away, rubbing his wrists. He then paused and narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t tell me you and Thea are there already.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s an expression,” Kevin said. The three of them all rose to their feet, Neil and Andrew both slightly wobbly from having stayed put for too long.

“Maybe it’s time for an upgrade,” Andrew dully said, eyes scouring the deck in search for discarded weapons.

“Here,” Kevin said, holding out Andrew’s own sword for him. Andrew took it, weighed it, and looked up to Kevin, who shrugged. “I thought you might need it.”

“I do,” replied that.

“Do I get anything?” Neil asked excitedly. Kevin and Andrew both rolled their eyes, before Kevin drew Neil’s switchblade out of his pocket and handed it back to him.

“Oh my beloved, how I’ve missed you,” he cooed at the switchblade.

“Get a room,” Andrew told him.

“Go fuck yourself,” Neil replied.

“Guys, let’s focus on the important things,” interrupted Kevin, turning toward the fighting that’s been happening. “We need to get you two off this ship and onto ours, otherwise this entire rescue mission is null and void.”

Neil made a face. “I know how rescue missions work, _Kevin_.”

“Do you? Do you really?” replied Kevin in the same tone. “It sure doesn’t look like it.”

“Focus, Kevin,” Andrew said.

“Yeah Kevin, focus,” parroted Neil. Kevin inhaled, looked between them, and promptly looked away in disdain.

They started making their way back toward the royal ship; along the way, Andrew has made eye contact with Aaron and faintly nodded, which signalled the beginning of the end. By the time they got to the railing, the fighting has shifted away from the plank.

They were a few feet away when the one-eyed pirate lunged at them with his sword; Andrew intercepted him on pure reflex, and the grating of the blades sliced through the air like nails on chalkboard, making everyone grimace. Andrew’s expression turned blank and heavy, and he stepped forward, pushing the pirate back and away from the ship.

“C’mon, Neil!” Kevin yelled at him, gesturing at the vessel. “Let’s go!”

But Neil was stapled to his place. “I’m not leaving Andrew!”

“I’m right behind you!” Andrew yelled. Pirates were popping up left and right, and he blocked and parried, but more and more were swarming them. Neil jumped in with his switchblade, disarming men and stabbing anyone he didn’t recognize; there were swears, there were yells, and there was the call of Jeremey Knox, as clear as a bright day, for the royal guard to fall back.

“They know we’re almost through!” Kevin told them. “We have to get on the ship _now!_ ”

“We’re a little busy,” Neil yelled back, barely evading a jab of a sword, who knew whose. Andrew swiftly disabled the attacker and skittered to a stop next to him, chest heaving.

“Retreat,” he said, as they scoured the flock of pirates approaching them.

And so, to Kevin’s endless relief, they fell back and advanced toward the ship. At long last, Kevin was back aboard the royal vessel with Andrew and—

“Where’s Neil?” he said.

Andrew frowned and turned. “He was right behind…”

Kevin turned just in time to watch as a sword went clean through Neil’s torso. There was a yell as it was pulled out, and Neil collapsed to his knees on the deck of the Claw of The Sea.

A horn blew through the air, and the royal ship was starting to set sail.

“Stop the fucking ship!” Andrew yelled, and was about to dart forward and leap over the now-empty distance between the vessels before Kevin snapped back into himself and grabbed the back of Andrew’s jacket, throwing him back.

“What the fuck?” Andrew seethed, quickly regathering his footing.

“No way in hell you’re making that jump,” Kevin told him. To the royal deck he yelled, “somebody stop the ship! Neil’s still there!”

There was a startled commotion as a few guards scrambled to get the ship’s captain. In seconds he was running toward them, a pained expression on his face.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Kevin exclaimed. “Stop the ship!”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that,” the captain said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, Andrew shoved him back against a nearby mast; a clasp of the captain’s hair in his hand, he held the tip of his sword to his exposed jugular.

“Stop the ship,” he snarled, voice low.

“Your Highness.” The captain’s face paled. “I’m sorry, but we can’t do that.”

Andrew knocked him against the mast. “Why the _hell_ not?”

“I’m under orders from the king,” the captain scrambled to say, his eyes darting from the prince to Kevin and back. “To get you home under any circumstances. I won’t risk the mission for a mere herbalist.”

“I’m not going back there without him,” Andrew said, nicking the captain’s skin. “Stop the damn ship, or so help me, I will kill you.”

“Andrew!”

Andrew lifted his eyes to meet those of his brother’s. Aaron was standing a few feet away from him; his eyes were wide, his jaw taught.

“Stop the fucking ship,” Andrew told him.

“It’s too late,” Aaron said.

Andrew abruptly let the captain go and spun around. He looked to the Claw of The Sea, but he couldn’t see Neil. They were too far away now.

“Andrew.”

Andrew smacked the offered hand away, and stepped back. He threw the sword aside, and then, without a glance back, stalked away and down into the ship.

On the deck, Kevin and Aaron couldn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you... you know... enjoyed. :)


	16. Chapter 16

By the time they arrived at the royal castle, dark has fallen anew, and a heavy downpour was violently rapping against the roof of the carriage. They’ve managed to reach shore shortly before the storm struck down against the sea; as the row of carriages began their voyage back, both the Clarinesian brothers could see from the window the way the waves erratically rose and crashed onto themselves.

The Claw of the Sea was gone. Out of view or permanently, it was yet to be determined — but there was no arguing that this time, even though the pirates have failed in their initial mission, they’ve won in more ways than one.

Back at the castle, the rescue mission was declared a success, and all those who’ve worked on finding the missing prince were dismissed to return to their homes. Riko Moriyama was released of his confinement; it was hardly a day before people noticed the missing guard, and when his unsent letters to his _real_ employer had been found, the king himself let the Tanbarunian crown prince go with a spoken and written apology.

“I’ll allow it just this once,” Riko told him, unabashed. The king barely batted an eye. “But if it is ever to happen again, war will be waged.”

“It won’t come to that,” the king’s spokesman assured him. Riko spared him a brief glance before climbing into his carriage; despite the raging rain, he was departing, unwilling to remain at the palace a minute longer than necessary.

“I would hope not,” Riko said from his open window. “For now, we depart as allies. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

And the carriage was gone, watched by the king and his slightly elder son, along with his own spokesman and both their personal bodyguards. Andrew wasn’t there. No one knew were Andrew was, these days.

That was, except for Jeremy Knox. After the kidnapping incident, the king assigned the captain of the royal guard himself to keep an eye on Andrew at all times — not only to keep at bay those who might conspire to harm him again, but also to prevent him from doing anything stupid. Like, for example, going after the most notorious pirate crew to have traversed the kingdom and its seas.

Kevin didn’t return to Tanbarun with Riko. It was his mission, now, to find his missing — “Not fallen,” he kept insisting; “just missing.” — comrade, seeing as no one else wanted to believe there was any point in even trying. He would’ve gone to Andrew for help, but Andrew — well.

Nicky and Renee were demoted shortly after Andrew’s return, seeing as the king no longer saw them competent enough to properly do their jobs. However, they could still be seen roaming about the castle; Nicky being a royal, himself, and Renee having taken an assistance job in the royal herbal team.

That was why, four days later, she found herself in the newly reconstructed royal pharmacy, accompanied by Kevin, Nicky, and the rest of the kingdom’s royal herbalists.

“What do you mean, he’s _refusing_ to look for Neil?” Matt exclaimed. The rest of the room’s occupants wore expressions just as frustrated as his.

Kevin shrugged faintly. “That’s what the king said. Neil, apparently, is not important enough.”

“Does he know about his relationship with Andrew?” Allison asked, her cheeks red with fury. She was halfway standing, her palm flat against the table they were gathered around. “He might as well be the most important man in this kingdom!”

“Not by his logic, is seems,” said Kevin. He sat straight in his chair, posture as rigid as always, but his eyes were weary. “I hate to say it, but it makes sense. From his perspective, Neil is just a herbalist — and a foreign one at that. Why would he send his own protection force to find him?”

“Because he was kidnapped in his castle in the first place!” Dan exclaimed. “He has to realize the court is at least _somewhat_ responsible.”

“And the pirates are a public enemy,” added Nicky. “They could kill two birds with one stone.”

“The Claw of the Sea is presumed inactive,” Kevin said. “They haven’t been spotted after the rescue mission, and in this storm…” his voice trailed off.

“Unless they start stirring trouble again, no one will go after them,” Dan concluded. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It falls to us, then.”

“But what can we do without resources?” said Nicky. “We don’t have the first clue of where they could be. They might be at the bottom of the ocean, for all we know.”

“But that would mean—“ Allison cut herself off, and looked away from the table. She was quiet for a moment, before snapping a nasty curse and slamming her hand against it. “Where the hell is Andrew when we need him?”

That prompted a round of sighs, and Allison quirked an eyebrow at them. “He doesn’t really believe Neil’s dead, right? He couldn’t.”

“Honestly, Alli, no one knows,” Dan said. “Maybe he does.”

“He doesn’t,” Nicky countered. “People would be dying if he did.”

That was when the door to the pharmacy suddenly flew open, and Andrew stormed in. The entire room, save for Renee, nearly jumped out of their skins, and Nicky actually yelped. “Andrew, what the hell!”

“Renee,” Andrew curtly said, disregarding the five astonished glares directed at him. “I need your help.”

Renee serenely crossed her palms on the table. “With what?”

Andrew tilted his head, gesturing at the rest of the room’s occupants. Renee’s eyes widened minutely, before she leaned back in her seat. “You’re trying to find Neil.”

All the angry gazes melted into cautious ones, and Andrew’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”

“And you think I know where he is.”

All eyes snapped to her when Andrew said, “yes.”

Matt frowned. “Why would she know?”

Andrew looked to her, and despite his guarded expression, Renee knew he was asking for permission to reveal her secrets. _That isn’t needed_ , she thought. Out loud, she said, “because I used to be a part of The Claw of the Sea’s crew.”

Nicky, bless his heart, gasped.

“Holy damn, you were a _pirate_?” Allison exclaimed. Renee nodded carefully.

“It was a while ago, now, but yes,” she said. “I was the captain’s right hand. I wanted to get out, but, well…” she halted. “You don’t just walk away from something like that. Then, one day, Andrew was on some mission that led him to us, and we had this showdown.”

The gazes of the room’s occupants shifted back to Andrew, caution deepening. He regarded them impassively, not interrupting.

“From here to there, Andrew noticed the bind I was in,” continued Renee. “And he got me out. Made me his bodyguard.”

“Wow, man,” Matt said, his caution replaced by appreciation. “That’s surprisingly nice of you.”

“Seriously,” added Dan.

Andrew crossed his arms. “I was being a decent human being.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Allison teased.

“Wait,” Kevin said, waving his hands around for attention. He turned to Andrew. “Does that mean you’ve met these pirates before?”

“A couple of times,” confirmed Andrew. “This isn’t the first instance of them kidnapping people for their own benefit.”

“There’s a reason they’re so notorious,” Renee added with a sigh. “They don’t have shame, or morals. All they know and all they want is money.”

“Why didn’t you take them down, then?” Dan asked Andrew. “Put them behind bars?”

“They’re pirates, Dan,” Matt interjected before Andrew could open his mouth. “Pirates are never caught.”

“We caught their captain, once,” Andrew said. “But she escaped. She’s the one behind all of it; The Claw of the Sea is synonymous with her. No matter how many of her crew we’ve executed, she got more. They were nothing but pawns to her.”

“So, that means…” Allison’s voice trailed. She lifted her eyes to Renee. “To find Neil, first we need to find her.”

Renee nodded.

“Can you?” asked Nicky. “Find her, I mean. From what you told us, I can’t imagine you’ve kept in touch with her.”

“I didn’t,” agreed Renee. “But, like I said, I used to be her right hand. I knew her better than anyone. I can find her.”

At that, her gaze interlocked with Andrew’s, whose eyes practically burned with their ferocity.

“But to do that,” she added, “we have to get out of here. Jeremy won’t let you, right?”

Andrew shook his head. “I have a plan.”

Kevin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Was that what you were doing this whole time?”

“And I thought you were brooding in the basement or something,” Nicky said. Allison frowned at him.

“Why the _basement_?”

“Oh, don’t you know about Andrew’s—mffmfnmmnf—“

Allison’s eyebrows perked at the lightning-speed at which Andrew managed to put a gloved hand over Nicky’s mouth, and he shot her a venomous glare.

“Does Andrew have hobbies we don’t know about?” said Matt with a smirk.

“No,” Andrew shortly replied, ignoring the way Nicky was clawing at his hand.

“Mfhfhmf—‘ndrew—Can’t _breathe_ —“

“Anyway,” Andrew said, “me and Renee will go after Neil, because an entire band of merry herbalists waltzing out of the castle will be just a _little_ suspicious.”

“We’re not merry,” denied Allison. “We’re rather angry, actually.”

“Even more so,” replied Andrew. “So you are going to hold down the fort.”

“I see,” said Renee. “You guys make sure everything is going smoothly while we’re gone.”

Andrew nodded, gesturing his chin at Kevin. “If word comes about some kind of new development, about Neil or The Claw of the Sea, you’ll be the first to respond.”

“Why me?” Kevin complained.

“Because you don’t work here,” Renee said, catching onto Andrew’s intent. “You’re not going to be needed otherwise, and it wouldn’t raise questions if you suddenly leave.”

“And what, you want us to cover up for you two?” asked Matt. When Renee nodded, he grinned. “Why, absolutely we will. You can rely on us, bro.”

Andrew’s expression flattened, and Matt drew back a little. “Not bro. Got it.”

Nicky chocked on a snicker, and hit Andrew’s hand over his mouth hard enough to prompt the prince to let go.

“If any of you squeal, I’ll have you executed,” Andrew concluded. Allison rolled her eyes.

“Right, as if Neil would let you do that.”

At that, all the smirks and half-smiles faltered.

“We’ll find him,” Renee reassured them. “And we’ll bring him back.”

“You do that,” Dan said. There was a sad edge to her voice. “Just bring him back alive.”

***

Renee met Andrew by the castle’s stables at a quarter past midnight, engulfed by shadows only barely disturbed by the glint of the sole oil lamp by the entrance. She crept in, keeping her eyes and ears peeled, and couldn’t help the relieved exhale that escaped her mouth when she saw a familiar figure tending to one of the horses. “Andrew.”

Andrew looked up to her and gestured toward the horse in the adjoined stall. Renee walked up to it, reaching to stroke its mane over the stall’s short, wooden door. The horse leaned into her touch; it was the one she always rode, and the one she’d taken when they first came across Neil.

“What’s your plan?” she quietly asked, entering the stall to prepare the horse for the ride. “The castle’s grounds are swarming with guards.”

“There’s a post change in fourteen minutes,” Andrew said from the next stall over, where he was strapping a saddle onto his horse. It was black, its legs long and thin; perfect for a discreet midnight escape. “I’ve sent a forged letter, supposedly from Jeremy, to postpone the next guards on call.”

“It won’t be long before someone notices the lack of them,” Renee said. She saw Andrew faintly shake his head.

“No, but we’ll have a small window to exit the palace. The gates should be open.”

“How come?”

“I’ve had them unlocked,” he said. “If everything has gone according to plan—“ he glanced at the stable’s entrance— “then no-one’s noticed yet. The only thing we’ll have to do is close the gates after us to alleviate suspicion.”

“And how will you explain your absence?”

Both Andrew and Renee froze. Renee lowered her boot from the saddle and turned to see two shadowed figures standing against the entrance’s light, one holding a lowered bow.

When they stepped forward into view, she easily recognized Katelyn and Aaron.

Andrew leaned forward against the wooden door of his horse’s stall, shoulders pulled back. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And should you?” said Aaron. “We’ve only just gotten you back, and not a week later you go running back to your captors.”

“It isn’t like that,” Renee bit out. Aaron leveled a measured gaze at her, and surprisingly, she saw no malice in it. It was focused. Calm.

“I know what it’s like,” he replied.

“Let me guess,” Andrew drawled. “You’re here to stop us.”

“I would be,” Aaron said. “But I’m not.”

Andrew tilted his head in curiosity. “I won’t let you follow us, either.”

“We’re not going to do that,” said Katelyn. She approached them, and held her bow out for Renee. Renee stepped forward and took the offered bow, before Katelyn reached into her bag and gave her five arrows.

“It’s not much,” she said. “But it’s all I can give you. Neil’s my friend too, and I want to help you.”

Andrew’s eyes darted from her back to Aaron. “You believed he was dead.”

“And I still think so,” Aaron gravely replied. “But I know you won’t leave it alone. And if there’s a chance he’s alive—“

“We want you to bring him back,” finished Katelyn. “We can’t abandon him.”

“You hope,” Renee realized. Katelyn gave her a reluctant nod.

“And even if he isn’t…” Aaron’s voice trailed off. He tried looking away from Andrew, but it only resulted in Andrew’s eyes chasing to catch his gaze. There was a cold, quiet moment, wherein the wind outside gently swished, and the horses inside quietly wheezed; besides that, all was still. “Bring him back, either way.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of the sea,” Katelyn said. “If he _is_ gone, and there’s nothing to be done, the very least we can grant him is a proper burial.”

“And you deserve to have some closure,” Aaron told his brother. Andrew didn’t stir. “Avenge him, will you?”

At that, Aaron handed Andrew a bag, which, upon inspection, contained road supplies — dried food and flasks of water, as well as a couple of daggers. Renee had her own bag, in which she’s stashed her gifted weapons, and Andrew had his sword strapped to his belt; but the gesture was welcome.

Andrew strapped the bag to the saddle and turned back to Aaron. “He isn’t dead,” he said, voice plain and simple. There was no venom in it, no hurt or desperation. The sky was blue, the sun set at the west, and Neil Josten wasn’t dead.

Aaron dropped his head and swallowed a sigh, putting his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “Let’s hope that.”

Renee flashed Katelyn a small smile, which the blonde returned with a wave of farewell. They didn’t have much time left, if they wanted to leave undetected.

“I’ll cover up for you,” Aaron said, and Andrew nodded from where he was mounted on his horse. “Just—“ he cut himself off with another sigh. “Just come back, okay?”

“Always do, dear brother of mine,” Andrew said.

And, dark mantles thrown over their heads and their horses neighing, they set out into the rain.

Within the hour, there was no trace of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay adventure! sort of.   
> Thank you, as always, for reading and commenting and kudosing :') I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> Is Neil alive? Or is he after all dead? Stay tuned to find out!!


	17. Chapter 17

Andrew sat by the bar of some second grade tavern, nursing an untouched drink and watching the captain of The Claw of the Sea as she downed shot after shot, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. She had both her elbows perched against a table at the far end of the tavern, her head bent low as if her neck were slightly unscrewed; she was alone, and Andrew hasn’t yet decided whether that was good news or not.

She’s been here just short of three hours, getting drunk and socializing with absolutely nobody. And nobody paid her a lick of mind, either; that is, except for Andrew and Renee, who’ve been keeping watch — Andrew near the entrance, and Renee right next to the backdoor.

It was near midnight when the disoriented pirate grabbed her coat, dumping a bunch of coins into her empty peanut plate and stumbling upright. She gave the tavern a quick once-over, her attention nowhere near sharp enough to notice Andrew or Renee, and stalked toward the backdoor.

Andrew caught Renee’s gaze as the pirate flung the door open, and they both jumped to their feet and shot after her the moment it closed behind her. Within the minute they were both outside, prepared to give chase.

It didn’t, however, seem necessary, as they found the captain bent above a patch of long-withered flowers, her coat discarded to the ground and one arm pressed to the tavern’s cobble wall as she violently retched.

Andrew drew his sword with a swish and crept behind her, swiftly pressing the side of it to her neck. She stilled, save for the faint gasps heaving her chest.

When she spoke, her voice was raspy. “Who is this?”

“Already forgot me?” Andrew said with mock sweetness. “We had such a great time together, I’d have thought you’d at least remember.”

The captain barked a painful-sounding laugh, shoulders slacking. “The little prince ran away from home?”

“Something like that,” he said. “You see, you have something of mine.”

The captain twitched, as if to turn to look at him, but Andrew pressed the sword tighter and she stilled again. “I’ve got nothing of yours.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. He felt her flinch as he dug in the blade, just a little bit.

“Andrew,” Renee warned.

“Oh my,” exclaimed the captain. “I see you’ve taken along my treacherous little bird. Chirped lies of loyalty to you, didn’t she?” She laughed again. “Eh, Natalie?”

“It’s Renee now,” Renee said, voice cold but not exactly upset. Andrew glanced back to her; her expression betrayed no emotion, except for her usual calm.

“Sure it is, sure it is,” the captain said in mock earnest. “I’ve heard the rumors, Natalie. How far you’ve fallen. And such a shame, too.”

“Let’s save the _you’ve had so much evil potential_ talk for later, shall we?” Andrew interrupted. “And by later, I mean never. Now, tell me where Neil is.”

The captain’s response was to elbow Andrew hard enough for him to stumble back, his sword cutting a thin, shallow line across her neck as she stepped away. But instead of breaking into a run, like any sane person would, all she did was bend down to retch into the dead flowers again.

When she was done, she gurgled out a wild laugh. Then she straightened, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and turned to him. Her eyes were half lidded, dark shadows under them; her skin was pale, and everything else about her was disarrayed — her clothes, her hair, her lipstick. And yet she was grinning at him, showing teeth. “Oh, but Your Highness, Little Red is _gone_.”

Andrew gave her an unimpressed glare. “He’s not.”

“You saw it, I saw it, we all saw it.” She gestured around idly at all the three people occupying the filthy, empty back alley. “The kid is dead. And if you _really_ wanna know,” she leaned in, her mouth brushing by his ear, “I threw him into the sea afterwards, for the sharks to feast on him.”

Andrew pushed her back, and she slammed into the wall behind her with the loopy grin still hanging from her lips. “Don’t like to hear the truth, do you?”

“From a liar like you?” Renee spoke up. When she stepped forward, the captain’s eyes skipped to her, narrowing. “You do nothing but lie and trick people. So excuse us for not believing a word coming out of your mouth.”

The captain sighed, but it was more out of agitation than resignation. “I barely survived myself, in the storm that came. The ship is gone,” she spat. “My crew is gone. And your little boyfriend is, whether you believe me or not, also gone.”

“He’s not my—“

“Okay, look,” the captain snapped. “I don’t fucking care. I’ve got nothing to tell you, alright? Go bother the sharks if you want to find him so bad.”

“I’ll make sure to go see them after we dump your body in the harbor,” Andrew said.

“We’re not killing her, Andrew,” Renee gently said. “It won’t help us.”

“The bastard that stabbed him is already sleeping with the fishes,” Andrew replied. “That right?”

The captain hesitantly nodded, at which he stepped forward, sword outstretched. “Then she’s the next best thing.”

“Woah there,” said the captain, putting up her hands. “Let’s talk about this.”

“We just did,” Andrew evenly replied.

That was when Renee pulled him back, reaching to lower his sword. “Andrew, think about this,” she muttered, stealing a glance at the captain. She watched the two with undisguised curiosity. “She can’t help us if she’s dead. Petty revenge won’t help us, either.”

“It isn’t _revenge_ ,” Andrew spat out. “It’s me stabbing the bitch to make myself feel better.”

Renee leveled him a flat look. And then she turned back around. “What’s your price?”

Andrew opened his mouth to say something, but Renee held up her hand. The captain’s grin widened. “ _Now_ you’re speaking my language, Natalie.”

“It’s Renee,” replied that. “So, you admit he’s alive?”

Andrew’s expression perfectly smoothed out. The captain tilted her head, pretending to mull it over.

“Maybe,” she finally said. “Or maybe not. Three hundred grand.”

“Yours,” Renee said. “Is he?”

“Yes.”

Half the tension in the air lifted, and Andrew could suddenly properly breathe again. “Where is he?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the captain, her eyes sparkling. “Five hundred grand might tell.”

Andrew sighed, massaging his brow. “Fine, it’s yours. Where is he?”

“Overseas,” she said. “Or in Tanbarun. Maybe in the forests. Hell—“ there was giddiness to her voice. “He might still be in Clarines.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Renee frowned. The captain shrugged a shoulder.

“I don’t know where he is _now_ ,” she said. “Three days ago, he was in Clarines. I don’t meddle with sold merchandise, you know.”

Andrew froze, his blood going cold. “What did you just say?”

The captain seemed unbothered. “Auctioned to the highest bidder. With hair like that, and the _attitude_ ,” she playfully snapped her teeth. “Easiest million I’ve made.”

Andrew discarded his sword in favor of grabbing her throat, throwing her against the wall. “I should kill you right now.”

The captain gurgled something that got lost in her attempts to breathe. She clawed at his hand, but it was weak; it was only when her eyes were beginning to flutter shut that Renee managed to tear Andrew off of the captain, pushing him back and away from her. “Andrew, you’ve got to calm down.”

“I’m plenty calm,” Andrew gritted out, eyes fixed over Renee’s shoulder on the pirate, slumped in her own vomit on the alley’s ground. She was breathing raggedly, loudly, and didn’t make an attempt to get up.

“We _still_ need to get info out of her,” Renee quietly insisted, keeping a hand in the air in front of Andrew’s chest. “We need to know who—“

“Who she fucking sold him to, I get it,” Andrew snapped. “It’s a man dead walking, that’s who.”

“Easy with the murder,” Renee said. “Let’s find Neil first, yeah? And then we can deal with those involved.”

Andrew let out a long, shallow exhale, before sidestepping Renee and crouching in front of the captain. She glared up at him.

“Who was the buyer?” Andrew asked.

“I’m not telling you anything anymore,” she ground out. “They’ll kill me.”

“I’ll kill you,” Andrew said. “If you don’t.”

“Did Neil ever tell you?” the captain said, her tone making Andrew halt all over again. She huffed a pathetic, almost inaudible chuckle. “What he’s _wanted_ for?”

“His red hair?” said Renee from her place over them. At that, the captain threw her head back and burst out laughing.

“You’ve mellowed, Natalie,” she said, once her laughter subsided.

And then she passed out.

***

When Neil came to, it was to complete darkness.

It took him a few minutes to completely come into himself, and he looked around him at where he was. They were moving, that was for sure; he could hear the grind of the ground under wheels, the vehicle he was in occasionally bumping.

He tried to get up from the floor, only for his body to remind him of what’s happened. He inhaled sharply at the pain that sprouted in his torso, and went completely still.

“Oh no,” he mumbled, hands lightly pressed against his abdomen. Yep. Bandages. Man, kidnappers these days were so damn nice to keep patching him up.

Which reminded him of another issue: he’s been kidnapped by pirates, hasn’t he? Then why was he in — what, a carriage? A massive, dark carriage? “What even?”

“And here I thought you were dead.”

Neil yelped and jerked backwards, proceeding to let out a long line of swears as it jostled his wound. “Who’s there?” he exclaimed.

“Relax,” said a girlish voice. Neil blinked, seeing the vague silhouette of a face inclining over him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” he asked, painstakingly pulling himself up so that his shoulder-blades were leaning against the door of the carriage. “Where am I?”

“Who knows,” shrugged the girl, shuffling away. “We’ve been on the road for hours.”

His eyes narrowed. “We?”

“You and me,” she said. “And the driver. And a couple of horses, but I don’t think you’d care about the horses.”

No Andrew, then. “That’s good,” he muttered, glancing up at the ceiling. Now that his eyes were starting to get used to the darkness, he was looking for a way out of here. It was easy math: one driver against a two hostages. Well, sort of. He wasn’t sure yet exactly _how_ incapacitated he was.

“How on earth is that good?” the girl tiredly said. “You like being taken or something?”

“At the rate it keeps happening, it might as well be my favorite activity,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his switchblade — only to realize he had no pockets. “Where’d my jacket go?”

“They probably took it away when you were, you know, dying,” said the girl. Neil frowned at her bemusedly.

“Remind me how we know each other?”

“You don’t remember?” she said. When Neil raised his eyebrows at her, she sighed. “Yeah, I guess almost dying can do that to a person. We were auctioned off to the same person, a few days ago. We’re on the way to whoever that is now.”

“Excuse me, we were _what_?” Neil exclaimed. Oh, that was just _great_ — a price tag to his name was the _one_ thing he’s been missing. And to think he’d been so close to getting away, too!

“Auctioned off,” the girl slowly repeated. “They didn’t say you had a concussion on top of everything else.”

“I don’t feel concussed,” Neil said.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” the girl sighed. “We’re not getting out of here anytime soon.”

“Wait, so,” Neil said, “exactly how long has it been?”

“Three days, give or take,” she said. “You’ve managed to almost bleed out twice in that time, by the way. And that’s not counting what must’ve happened when you’d gotten that beautiful stab wound of yours.”

Neil groaned. “I’m going to kill those pirates.”

“Word is, they’re already dead,” she said, tilting her head. “Captain’s the only one who’s survived the storm.”

“Figures,” he muttered, and straightened a little. “Okay, we need to get out of here.”

“Did you not listen to anything I just told you?” she said. “This carriage is locked. We’re not getting out, especially not with your condition.”

“Oh, this?” Neil waved dismissively. “I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“Have you now?” she sardonically replied. “Do tell.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” he said. “Do you have a hair pin?”

“The lock is from outside, dumbass,” she retorted.

He paused. “That’s not good.”

“ _None_ of this is good!”

“D’you like tea?”

The girl stared at him like he just fell from the moon. For a few long, stretching seconds, the carriage was completely quiet. Neil scrambled to reach into the back pocket of his pants — they were, as far as he could see, the same pants he’s always been wearing, if a little blood-stained and dirty — and pulled out a handful of rosemary leaves.

He paused when he noticed her perplexed expression, and scrunched his shoulders up apologetically. “I’m a herbalist?”

“That’s just terrific,” she dryly said. “Now we can drug our way out of here.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

“You’re right, it’s a _terrible_ idea.”

“No, no,” he said, absentmindedly looking around. “No, this is a fantastic idea. Well, not _this_ idea, but it just gave me an idea. We’re getting out of here.” He then perked and drew his knee up to his chest — wincing when that sent a wave of pain through his midsection — and reached into his boot.

“They did a really bad job of searching you,” she remarked when he pulled out a sole match. He touched the ground, searching, and struck the match against a rough patch.

A small flame ignited, lighting up the inside of the carriage.

“Get ready to punch,” he said, holding the match to the rosemary leaves. “I don’t think I can hit anyone right now, so your job, when the driver comes to check, is to knock him out.”

“I can do that,” she replied. She climbed up to her feet when the plant caught fire, and Neil threw it to the floor, away from them. They waited until smoke began escaping from under the doors before bursting into action.

“Help!” screamed the girl, adding a few layers of distress to her voice. She knocked against the carriage’s opposite door. “There’s a fire! Help!”

The carriage abruptly stopped, sending them flying backward. Neil grunted, pulling his head back. “Oh my _God_ , learn to fucking drive.”

“Help!” screamed the girl, jumping forward to continue knocking frantically. They heard the click of a lock, and a second later the door was pulled open.

She wasted no time sucker-punching the driver, delivering a kick to his shin for good measure before knocking his head against the open door. The driver crumpled in a heap, and she jumped out, brushing her hands together.

Turning to him, she said, “you coming?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, pressing his fingers against his abdomen. He could feel a worrying warmth. “Just,” he swallowed. “Just gimme a second.”

The girl frowned in concern, peeking her head back into the carriage. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve noticed.” In the light now coming from the open door, he could see a stain of blood spreading on his shirt, although not too much or too fast. For now. “I think I tore some of my stitches.”

She climbed back in. “I don’t know how to repair stitches.”

“I can do that,” he said. “I just need… A thread and a needle. And, uh,” he blinked. “Some alcohol would be good.”

“Where am I supposed to get you all that?”

He glanced around at the empty carriage. “You don’t suppose they’ve got a med kit lying about?”

“Not that I can see,” she replied. “We’re really close to a town, though. Maybe — I don’t know, five miles? I could take one of the horses and go ask for help.”

“Help’s good,” he said. He tried to get up, but she gently pushed him back down.

“Nah-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “You stay right here, before you tear any more stitches and bleed out. I don’t need your death on my conscious.”

“What do you care?” he said, eyebrows perked. “You don’t know me.”

“Hey, we’ve been hostages together. I’d say we’re pretty damn close now,” she replied, climbing back to her feet. “I’m going to be super-fast. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Before he could protest further, she jumped out of the carriage and disappeared from sight. Neil slumped in his place, letting out a long sigh. “Let’s hope you actually come back, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure it comes as a complete and utter surprise that Neil's alive. Yep, I know, I'm great at plot twisting lmao.
> 
> Anyhow I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading!!


	18. Chapter 18

Matt, Dan and Allison were walking leisurely down the wide, royal hall, with its vases at every turn and floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing the sun setting outside. There was still no word from Andrew and Renee regarding Neil, but for the sake of inconspicuousness, they all pretended to be calm and collected.

When they saw Jeremy Knox advancing toward them from the other end of the hall, all three of them simultaneously turned on their heels and hastened their paces to get out of his view before he noticed them.

Alas, they were too late. “Matt! Dan!”

The two addressed grimaced and stopped, before turning with bright smiles to greet the acclaimed captain of the royal guard. Allison, out of sense of camaraderie, did the same. “Jeremy!” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“It is,” agreed Jeremy with a comfortable smile. “Especially considering I haven’t seen any of you in the last couple of days. I almost feel like you’ve been avoiding me,” he humorously added.

“Oh, we totally weren’t doing that,” said Matt.

“Not at all,” agreed Allison.

“It’s a coincidence,” added Dan, just to make sure Jeremy understood they weren’t doing that at all on purpose. Wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I could’t help but notice,” Jeremy said, “that you’ve been mingling with Andrew’s clique lately.”

They all instinctively averted their gazes — Matt lifted his head to appreciate the beautiful mosaic decorating the ceiling; Allison found the view from outside awe-striking, with its colors of dusk; Dan inspected the vase right behind Jeremy, finding its pattern unique and incredibly interesting.

Jeremy frowned, his smile turning amused. “None of you happen to know where our dear second prince has disappeared off to?”

“No,” Matt instantly said, looking right back to him.

“Nope,” said Allison, smiling apologetically.

“Not at all,” said Dan, earnestly shaking her head.

“…Right,” trailed Jeremy.

That was when the three of them noticed a certain Nicky Hemmick walking down the hall toward them, out of Jeremy’s view but clearly in theirs. He didn’t seem to recognize Jeremey’s back; it might’ve been the fault of the generic uniform, or the generic hair color, or the generic posture; or, even more probably, it might’ve been because they’ve all agreed to straight up avoid Jeremy until Andrew came back with Neil in tow, in which case the absence would be smoothly explained away as a noble rescue mission. So, naturally, Nicky wouldn’t put two and two together when they weren’t supposed to be together in the first place.

They all made discreet, obscure but very heartfelt gestures for him to go back the way he came, or stop coming their way, or do anything that didn’t involve getting noticed by Jeremy. But seeing as these gestures were indeed very discreet, so that Jeremy wouldn’t, God forbid, turn around, Nicky seemed to think that they were greeting him, and promptly waved back before approaching them even faster.

Allison and Dan were starting to show their distress on their faces, but then it was completely too late as Nicky called out, “what are you all doing around here?”

Dan’s expression fell. Matt let out a defeated sigh. Allison facepalmed.

Jeremy turned around, and Nicky stopped in his place, all the color draining out of his face. “Jeremy,” he said, straining a pleasantly-surprised tone instead of the instinctive _oh shit, oh no_ tone. “I didn’t recognize you there.”

“No harm,” Jeremy said, smiling his dazzling smile. “You know, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now.”

“Let me guess,” said Allison. “Even since Andrew fell off the face of the earth?”

“Precisely,” said Jeremy. “As his cousin, I thought you might be able to tell me where exactly he went.”

“On a business trip,” Nicky carefully said. He was improvising, as they all were; the plan was so awfully derailed that they could do nothing else. “In. A different kingdom.”

“That isn’t possible,” Jeremy said, and all their heartbeats spiked. “I would’ve been asked to escort him in a business trip, had it been official.”

“He’s gone undercover,” Dan hastened to explain. Jeremy turned to her, confusion written on his face.

“Has the king been notified?” he asked.

“Kind of,” Matt said. “But not really, no.”

“I understand,” hummed Jeremy. “It’s surprising that Andrew’s gone back to his princely duties so soon, considering the loss he’s just experienced.”

“Oh, you’re talking about Neil?” Matt said, his voice pitching. Alarm, panic, what the hell — they well all in all these states and more. “He—he’s—“

“He faked his death,” Allison cut in, then paled when Dan, Nicky and Matt all shot wide-eyed glares at her. “I mean—“

Jeremy looked taken aback. “You’re saying Neil’s alive?”

“He’s also undercover,” said Dan.

“But on a different mission,” Matt hurried to add, for whatever reason. A complicated cover story is harder to follow, hence easier to believe, right?

Right?

“I thought he was a herbalist,” Jeremy said, frowning.

“He is,” they all simultaneously replied.

“It’s a herbal mission,” Nicky explained. “An undercover herbal mission.”

“To procure endangered plants from enemy territory,” Matt explained. “So that they wouldn’t go instinct. You can’t trust anyone but yourself these days, right?”

A silence fell as Jeremy took it all in. “I don’t understand why he faked his death, then,” he slowly said. “Besides, I saw it myself. The sword went all the way through him.”

They cringed.

“He faked it,” Allison insisted.

“He needed the public to believe he was dead,” said Dan. “So that nobody would suspect the plants being taken. Out of the enemy territory. Undercoverly.”

“And the pirates?” asked Jeremy.

“They were in on it,” Nicky said, nodding gravely. “You see, Andrew and Neil, they…” his voice trailed off. “They…”

“They eloped,” Dan blurted out. Everybody, including Jeremy, turned wide eyes to her. “I _mean_ —“

“After they heard Aaron’s announcement!” Matt exclaimed, the pitch of his voice invading girly territory. Sirens blared in all their heads, and at this point, they weren’t sure whether they were quelling the fire or just putting _everything_ on fire so that nobody would know where it’d started. “You know how Andrew is! He’s never liked it when Aaron was in relationships when he wasn’t. Because he was. You _know_. So protective of him.”

“I’m a witness,” Nicky affirmed. “They’ve been like that their whole lives.”

“It’s just always been a private matter,” Allison vehemently nodded. “So everybody always thought they hated each other.”

“Holy…” Jeremy put a hand over his gaping mouth. “I guess congratulations are in order,” he said, and they all nodded intently. To himself he muttered, “that explains so much.”

“See, so you don’t need to worry,” Matt said, patting his shoulder.

“Not at all,” Dan confirmed. Allison and Nicky nodded reassuringly.

“Should I tell the king?” Jeremy asked. They all instantly shook their heads.

“They’ll both come back in a couple of days,” Nicky said. “And, well…”

“They’ll have a ceremony and everything,” Allison said. “And then—then—“

“Then everybody will find out. It’s a surprise!” explained Dan. “So please, don’t tell anybody.”

“And why do you all know?” Jeremey said.

“We’re responsible for the ceremony,” Allison confidently replied. They were so freaking screwed. “Because, you see, Andrew trusts us.”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “He does.”

“And not in vain,” Matt squeaked in, mostly to make himself feel better. “It’s all very justified.”

They all nodded. Jeremy blinked a couple of times, then swayed back. “My head’s spinning. I think I should go lie down for a while.”

“That’s a great idea,” Dan said. “Do that. You can forget this conversation ever happened, if you want to.”

Jeremy laughed. “My lips are sealed. And seriously,” he added, “not only am I glad Neil’s alive, but I’m surprised they finally decided to do something with what they had between them. I guess I’m just surprised it all happened so fast.”

“We all are,” Dan said, drawing the words out. “We all are.”

When Jeremey was out of view and out of earshot, they all let out a sigh of either relief or complete horror.

“Andrew’s going to kill us all,” Nicky said, burying his face in his hands. “And then leave our corpses outside for the crows to peck at.”

“At least we didn’t tell him he left to rescue Neil?” Allison offered.

“I think that’s the _only_ thing we didn’t tell him, Alli,” Dan said.

“I mean—“ Matt shrugged. “We’re only advancing the inevitable. It was going to happen, just…”

“In a few years?” suggested Dan.

“Something like that.”

“You do realize someone’s going to have to tell them, don’t you?” Allison said.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it,” said Nicky.

“Hey, maybe we can still fix it,” Matt hopefully said.

Dan put her face in her hands and leaned back against the wall of the hallway. “I think we’ve fixed enough.”

***

Neil’s mind was getting foggy when he heard footsteps approaching the carriage. He pulled back regardless, scrambling to get the door behind him open, when the familiar face of the hostage girl popped into his view. “I’ve brought help!”

She was pushed aside, and instead of her, Andrew climbed into the carriage in what looked to Neil a lot like outrage.

Neil’s mind short-circuited. “Andrew.”

“Neil,” he blandly said, pulling a med kit out of a bag. A piece of bread tumbled out with the intensity of his motion, but Andrew kicked it aside in order to crouch in front of Neil, quickly putting a thread to a needle.

Before Neil fully gathered his mind around what was going on, he found himself shirtless, with his wound nicely stitched shut once again. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your sorry ass,” Andrew replied, starting to wrap Neil’s chest with new, clean bandages. Neil winced at the spike of pain, but he was too out of it to comment about it. Andrew spared him a brief glance at the motion. “I see the blood loss is making you even slower than usual.”

“I thought I was going to die,” Neil finally said, quiet. Andrew halted, before continuing to wrap at the same pace.

His voice was level as he spoke. “Me too.”

“Neil,” said another familiar voice, and Neil lifted surprised eyes to see Renee climbing into the carriage, smiling a soft and genuine smile. “I’m so glad we found you alive.”

“How did you?” he asked, stifling a grunt as Andrew tied the bandages tightly.

“I told you!” he heard the girl’s voice calling from outside. Her voice got closer as she squeezed back inside the carriage. “I’ve found help!”

Andrew leaned back, having finished patching Neil up. “Robin here went around the town we were investigating in, screaming about a redhead bleeding out in a hostage carriage.” Neil actually cringed at the lack of the girl’s discretion. “And we all know how many redheads there are around these parts.”

“Especially those likely to bleed out,” added Renee with the slightest hint of amusement. Neil made a face at her, which quickly turned into a grimace, and he resorted to sagging back in his place.

“You’re something else,” he told Robin, exhaling a small laugh. “Thank you.”

Her face broke into a wide smile. “I’m only paying you back.”

Andrew and Renee looked at him inquiringly, and he shrugged. “Rosemary is kind of flammable.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Andrew told him. “We should get out of here before sleepyhead out there wakes up.”

“I don’t want to get up,” Neil whined, sagging further down against the door.

“We can’t stay here,” Andrew said.

“Actually,” Robin said, stepping forward, “we can.”

When Andrew and Renee both opened their mouths to explain why that was a phenomenally atrocious idea, she said, “why waste such a good carriage?”

Andrew and Renee now exchanged gazes, and ten minutes later, their horses were strapped to the carriage. They let the other horses go; Renee took over the role of the driver, accompanied by Robin, while Andrew climbed back into the carriage.

“You’re planning to stay on the floor the whole ride home?” Andrew asked Neil as the horses whinnied into action, taking off. Neil nodded, giving him a small grin. “I’m perfectly comfortable.”

Andrew didn’t break eye contact with him when one of the carriage’s wheels ricocheted over a rock, making the whole vehicle bump and Neil colorfully swear. From outside, they heard Renee’s faint exclamation of, “sorry!”

“I almost envy you,” Andrew dryly said.

“What do you want me to do? Run a marathon?” Neil retorted, curling a protective arm over his waist. “I’m not exactly in top shape right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Andrew sighed, before hauling Neil up the sit on the bench, pressed against him. “If you don’t move, I’ll make sure you don’t feel any of the bumps,” he said.

Neil made a face at him but didn’t object. The next time there was a bump, Andrew held him tightly to himself, and Neil really felt nothing. “You’re like a wizard.”

“And you’re like an idiot,” Andrew said. “The fact you aren’t dead is a miracle.”

“I live to defy expectation,” Neil smugly replied.

They quieted down, Neil absently worrying his lip, before Andrew suddenly spoke up. “Don’t do that again.”

Neil looked at him to be met with a heavy, serious gaze. “I won’t. I promise,” he added, when Andrew didn’t look convinced.

“I’ll hold you up to it,” he said.

“I know you will,” Neil muttered. The blood loss and sheer exhaustion from the last few days was starting to get to him; for the first time in a long while, he felt safe again, and it made him suddenly feel all the things he’s been putting off feeling. “I think imma take a nap,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

Andrew squeezed his shoulder. In between the haze and dark enveloping him, Neil heard him say, “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Then he heard no more, and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plot-twisted myself there :)  
> Thank you for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys are gonna like this one. Please enjoy :))

Katelyn burst into Dan’s room, frantic with excitement. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me!”

Dan almost fell off her bed with startlement. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t believe you’re planning Neil’s and Andrew’s wedding and you. Didn’t. Tell me.” Katelyn crossed the room and dramatically flopped down on the bed next to Dan, actually holding her by the shoulders and shaking her with every halt. “You know how I love to arrange flowers!”

Dan stared at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. A few seconds passed, wherein Katelyn held on to her shoulders and gaze, eyebrows reprovingly shot up her forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you told Jeremy not to tell anybody,” Katelyn said, babbling on with enough cheer for her blond curls to jump up and down. “But he thought that since Aaron’s his literal twin brother from birth, you know how it works—he thought he ought to tell him.”

“He _what_?” Dan yelled, then put both hands over her mouth. Lowering her voice, she said again, “he what?”

“I know you guys wanted it to be a surprise and all, but it’s still going to be,” Katelyn continued. “Of course, I know because Aaron tells me everything, but _I_ hardly told anyone at all.”

“You _what_?” Dan felt herself getting lightheaded, and propped a hand against the mattress to support herself. Her voice sounded weak and distant to her own ears. “Who did you tell?”

“Oh, just a few friends here and there,” Katelyn dismissively said. At Dan’s horrified expression she hurried to add, “but they promised they won’t tell anyone!”

“Jeremy promised that too!” Dan exclaimed. “We’re doomed!”

“No!” Katelyn despairingly called out, now supporting her friend instead of berating her. “It can all be fixed!”

“Oh world, how I’ve loved being alive,” Dan mumbled, putting her face in her hands. “I’ll never get to go to Switzerland.”

“Of course not, it isn’t a real place,” Katelyn said, at which Dan let out a sob. “Oh my gosh, are you crying? Don’t cry! Dan, I’m sorry! We can fix it!” She halted. “But you _will_ let me do the flower arrangements, right?”

“I might as well, already,” Dan mumbled from between her fingers. “I never imagined my life would end like this.”

“I’m sure Andrew and Neil wouldn’t mind,” Katelyn said, hugging her shoulder comfortingly. “It’s not like they weren’t going to get married had the secret not gotten out.”

Dan let out another sob. “I have to tell Matt.”

“Oh,” Katelyn suddenly said, making Dan freeze and lift an inquiring gaze to her. “I also kind of told my friends it was happening next month.”

“ _Why_?”

“I panicked!” Katelyn said. “They were asking all these questions — you _know_ how they are about these things — and I couldn’t say that I don’t know.”

“Why _not_?”

Katelyn shrugged helplessly.

And so they sat there in despair, both for the same reasons but actually not at all.

_It was going to happen anyway, eventually,_ Dan tried telling herself. _It was. It really was. We didn’t mess up_ that _bad._ It was true that now there was no fixing it — but maybe there was hope yet.

Dan suddenly knew where the answer lay, and a plan began weaving itself in her head.

***

Neil walked into the pharmacy, leaning heavily against Andrew’s steady form, and cracked a crooked smile at its occupants.

“Oh my God!” Dan exclaimed, standing up so fast the chair fell back. Allison stepped forward with a huge smile plastered on her face, but before she reached Neil, Matt lunged at him out of left field with a huge bear hug.

Andrew weaseled away seamlessly as Neil hugged Matt back, comfortingly patting him on the back. “Hey.”

Matt pulled back, holding Neil on both shoulders and measuring him with absolute rejoice. “I’m _so_ glad you’re alive, Neil, because you’re getting married next month.”

Neil’s smile faltered, and he tilted his head. “What?”

Out of his periphery, he saw Andrew slam something he’s been holding down on the table, hard enough to garner everyone’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

“You see,” Allison started, biting her lips. “We, well, while you were gone—“

“We did what you told us to do!” screeched Nicky. Andrew narrowed his eyes at him in such a manner that Nicky hid himself behind Allison, scrunching his shoulders defensively. “We covered you.”

“No one suspected a thing,” agreed Matt. “For all anyone knows, you’ve been undercover in enemy territory.”

“That doesn’t sound like what I’ve told you to do,” Andrew flatly said.

“It might not _sound_ like it, but it was all very logical at the time,” said Allison.

“We handled it all really well,” nodded Dan. “It all went exactly according to plan.”

“Smooth sailing,” said Allison.

“Wait, wait,” Neil said, leaning against Matt now that Andrew’s support was missing. “Let’s get back to me getting married for a second. I wasn’t engaged to anyone.”

“That’s right,” said Dan. Allison nodded enthusiastically.

Neil narrowed his eyes in complete bafflement. “I don’t follow.”

“To put it shortly—“ Allison started, then trailed off, her eyes skipping from Andrew to Neil.

“To put it shortly, you’re getting married next month,” Matt completed, as helpful as always. Dan put her face in her hands.

“While you decide what the hell you’re all talking about,” Andrew interjected, “you need to fix Neil.”

There were a few alarmed exclaims as the room’s occupants finally noticed Neil’s bloodstained clothes and his weary expression. He smiled haphazardly, waving a dismissive hand about. “I’m fine, really. Andrew’s just overreacting.”

“You were stabbed,” Kevin said. “With a sword. Technically, you should be dead.”

“I’m aware,” Neil wryly replied. “But I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Andrew sighed, putting a hand over his forehead. While he was questioning how he’s gotten himself to here and now, trying to convince what should be a zombie that _yes, stab wounds to the chest do need medical attention, preferably yesterday,_ the rest of the medical team ushered Neil into the newly-reconstructed patient room. Andrew trailed behind them as they fussed over Neil, leaning against the doorframe.

Allison pushed Neil down to sit on the bed, and Dan ordered him to take his shirt off. She checked the dressing of his wound while Allison measured his vitals.

“I’m fine!” Neil insisted, wincing at Dan’s experimental prod. She gave him a flat look that could’ve rivaled Andrew’s.

“And I’m a gold fish,” Kevin deadpanned from the shadows.

“You might as well be,” Neil snapped back.

“What’s that even supposed to _mean_?”

“Guys, let’s give Neil some breathing room,” Dan said, starting to unwrap the bandages. “The stitching looks fine for now, but I need to redress this. We’re all very glad Neil’s alive, but for him to stay that way I need to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on putting on bandages?” Andrew blandly said.

“It’s very important,” Matt told him. Andrew’s eyebrows perked as he turned to look at him.

Dan gave Allison and Nicky a _look_ , and they hurried to agree with Matt, while Kevin muttered a disgruntled, “yeah, let’s let her work.”

“C’mon guys, we need to save lives here,” Dan proclaimed, brushing her hands together. The room broke into chaos as people started leaving, while Neil looked on confusedly. Eyes locking with Andrew, he mouthed, ‘what’s going on?’

Andrew gave a faint single-shoulder shrug, but didn’t move.

“Andrew,” Dan prompted.

“Wilds,” he replied. She gestured expressively at Neil, as if Neil couldn’t see her doing that. When Andrew didn’t stir, she sighed, and turned to work.

It turned out Andrew’s done a pretty neat job saving Neil’s life, because there wasn’t much at all for her to do. She gave Neil fluids—“you’re basically cardboard by now—“ and some medicine against infection, as well as some strong painkillers. She prodded the stitches and, finding them satisfactory, mummified Neil’s torso anew with clean bandages.

“ _Now_ you’re good to go,” she finally ruled, once she was finished. Neil was leaning against the white pillows, absentmindedly playing with his ruined shirt. He lifted his eyes to her. “No physical activities until I say so, and don’t get kidnapped again.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Neil said, earning Dan’s smile and a pat on the cheek, which made him frown.

“Wait, Dan,” he said when she stood up, discarding his shirt aside. “Now seriously. What was that whole thing about me getting married?” He smiled hesitantly. “I think it’s kind of important for me to know, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah,” drawled Dan, stepping away. “About that.”

And then she bolted out of the pharmacy.

Neil and Andrew exchanged looks, before Neil leaned forward to look out of the open door. The was no sign of Dan. “That wasn’t suspicious at all.”

“Must’ve learned the art of subtlety from you,” Andrew said. Neil rolled his eyes, leaning back against the pillows again.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” he asked. Andrew glanced back at the empty pharmacy; distantly, they could hear the vague sounds of arguing, but neither particularly strained to listen.

Andrew closed the door behind him, and stalked across the room to sit on the chair standing by the bed. Neil yawned.

“Get some rest,” Andrew told him. Neil hummed agreeably, the texture of his voice content, and promptly fell asleep.

Andrew didn’t leave.

***

Allison and Nicky cautiously peered into the patient room, finding both Neil and Andrew fast asleep. Neil was curled on the bed, head resting against the pillows and drooling slightly; Andrew’s head was propped between his arms on the edge of the bed, fitting into the curve of Neil’s form on it.

“Aww,” cooed Nicky, swallowing a smile. “They’re so cute.”

“They are,” agreed Allison. “But how are we supposed to leave these, now?”

They both dropped their gazes down to the flower banquet in her hands, before looking back at the sleeping boys.

“It seems we have miscalculated,” Nicky observed.

“We can’t exactly leave flowers from Andrew if Andrew’s been here the whole time,” Allison said. “Do you think we could get Andrew out of here without waking him up?”

Nicky snorted, muffling the sound with the back of his hand. “Not if you fancy your head connected to your shoulders.”

“What’s the plan, then?”

“We wait until Andrew leaves?” he suggested. Allison conspiratorially narrowed her eyes.

“Or we make him leave,” she said.

“I already told you—“

Allison shoved the banquet into Nicky’s hands and walked into the room, taking care to muffle her footsteps so that Neil wouldn’t wake up. She shook Andrew’s shoulders, at which Nicky shrieked and promptly muffled himself, retreating from the door.

Andrew woke up violently, and Allison barely managed to avoid the elbow gunning for her nose before finding herself with a sword at her throat.

“You’ll wake Neil up,” she whispered. Andrew glanced back at Neil’s undisturbed sleeping form; he was breathing calmly, and only slightly shifted his head at the ruckus.

“What do you want?” he quietly demanded, looking back at her without removing the blade.

“Aaron wants to see you,” she said, adding urgency to her voice. “He heard you’re back.”

“He should’ve come here himself, then,” Andrew said. “Because I’m not leaving Neil.”

“Come on,” Allison said. “Look at him. He’s not even conscious to know you’re here.”

Andrew didn’t look convinced.

“And he’s perfectly safe,” she added. “I’ll stay with him.”

Andrew slowly lowered his sword, sheathing it. “If I find out you left—“

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t live to see tomorrow,” she said, hastily taking Andrew’s place by the bed in case he had second thoughts. “Shoo.”

Andrew looked about ready to draw his sword again, but seemed to reconsider. He left the room without sparing her another glance.

Once he was out of the pharmacy, Nicky came out of where he’s been hiding behind the door and joined Allison. The flowers were a little crinkly now, but the Andrew’s fabricatedget-well card was still present and whole.

“Nicky, we have to make sure Aaron doesn’t tell him,” Allison said once they finished arranging the flowers on Neil’s bedside stand. “He can’t find out yet.”

Nicky paled. “You’re right. I’ll go update him about the plan, before Andrew finds him.”

And he was gone. Allison, true to her word, stayed by Neil’s bedside until he woke up, around an hour later.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” she gently said.

“Wrong fairytale,” Neil mumbled, blinking away the haze of sleep. It took him a few moments to fully come awake, and when he did, he looked around. “Where’s Andrew?”

“He had to attend to something,” Allison said, “but he left these.”

Neil followed Allison’s gaze to the bedside table and paused, before reaching out to take them. “ _Andrew_ left these?”

Allison nodded enthusiastically as Neil examined the banquet, lifting the card that lay between the flowers. “I’m having flashbacks, Alli. You’re sure _he_ left them, and not, say,” he gave her a crooked smile, “a lookalike?”

“Aaron doesn’t like you like that,” Allison said, smiling as well. Neil snickered, but then frowned, lifting his eyes to her.

“Like what?”

“Y’know,” she said. His eyebrows perked.

“I really don’t.”

Allison sighed, leaning back in her seat. “What kind of friends leave flowers for each other, Neil?”

Neil narrowed his eyes in misunderstanding. “The really good kind?”

“You know what, I’m going to go get Matt,” Allison resolutely declared, swiftly standing up. Neil opened his mouth to object, but she didn’t let him speak as she turned to leave.

“Look at the flowers, Neil,” she said at the door. “And do some deep soul searching.”

“What?”

“Soul searching,” she insisted. And then she slammed the door shut, leaving Neil alone with the flowers.

He looked down at them; they were fresh and blooming, clearly having been arranged recently. And carefully, too; Neil didn’t know Andrew had that sort of skill.

“He left me flowers,” he muttered to himself, looking up to the ceiling as if seeking counsel. His gaze wandered around the room when no counsel came, before promptly falling back on the flowers.

Then the realization dawned on him, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

***

Neil burst into Andrew’s chambers, only to find Aaron standing there.

“Wrong room,” Aaron called out at him. Neil skidded to a stop, looking around.

“ _Again_?”

“Get a map, Red,” Aaron mockingly said, dropping onto an expensive-looking beige couch. “And leave me alone.”

“Where’s Andrew?”

“I convinced him to go to sleep,” Aaron dismissively said. “Properly. He can’t keep watching you like a hawk at all times.”

“The sneaky bastard,” Neil gritted out, and started pacing. Aaron’s gaze followed him, puzzled. “I don’t get it. Why can’t he just _tell_ me when important stuff goes down, huh?” He paused, looking at Aaron inquiringly. Aaron looked to the sides, before realizing the question was directed at him.

“Because he’s Andrew?” he offered.

Neil crossed the room and flopped down on the couch, next to a frankly startled Aaron. “I mean, I knew we were close, you know?” Neil said, sinking against the cushions. Aaron shifted to get away from him, gluing himself to the armrest. “But how was I supposed to guess it was like _that_ , huh? You’re his brother. Tell me.”

Aaron didn’t know too much of what was going on, but he knew enough to understand this wasn’t how the girls’ plan was supposed to go. _He wasn’t supposed to find out, was he?_ Aaron thought, panic rising. _Because it sure as hell sounds like he just did._

“Aaron,” Neil said, staring at him expectantly.

“Maybe you should talk to him about it,” he blurted out. Wait, no—

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Neil said, springing to his feet. “For once, Andrew should explain himself.”

Before Aaron could fix his mistake — he should’ve told him the opposite! — Neil stormed out of his chambers, leaving the door hanging open in his hurry. Aaron looked at the open creak, then sunk into the cushions.

Whatever happened next, he told himself, he had nothing to do with it.

***

Neil stormed into Andrew’s chambers and yelled, “I can’t believe you haven’t told me you like me!”

There was a muffled _thud_ as Andrew fell off his bed, the sound echoing in the dark room. Neil didn’t even blink, stalking defiantly around the bed and into Andrew’s line of view as that scrumbled to get to his feet, balancing himself against the bed-frame.

“Neil,” he said, voice groggy with sleep. “You should be sleeping.”

“Like hell I can fall asleep like this!” Neil exclaimed. “If you had told me, it could’ve all been prevented!”

Despite the darkness, Neil could see the bafflement deeply concealed in the hazel eyes meeting his own. “What?”

Neil felt all the wind go out of his sails, and sat down heavily on the bed. “Aren’t you going to object?”

Andrew sat down next to him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Junkie.”

“The wedding!” Neil exclaimed, and Andrew nearly fell off the bed again. “The day I realize you like me is also the day I find out I’m getting married to someone else — heavens knows who _that_ is supposed to be — and you say nothing.” Neil gave Andrew a hurt look. “At all.”

Andrew opened his mouth to talk, closed it, then opened it again. “It isn’t like that.”

“You _don’t_ like me, then?”

“I do,” Andrew said, and this time it was Neil almost falling off the bed. Man, it was as if the mattress had an expelling spell on it or something.

Andrew looked at him at length, eyes somehow vibrant despite the darkness in the room. There were hints of moonlight streaming in from the glass door of the balcony; the rain had finally ceased, and the sky has lost its haze.

Andrew stood up and procured a cigarette from the nightstand. He lit it, letting the smoke trail a little in the room, and went out on the balcony. When he didn’t close the door behind him, Neil followed.

The air was cold and fresh, a faint breeze hitting his face as he came out. Andrew leaned against the stone railing, looking down at the empty courtyard and occasionally puffing out smoke.

“You haven’t fulfilled your side of our deal,” he finally said.

“We kind of got kidnapped before I could,” Neil replied, leaning against the railing next to him. Andrew finished his cigarette and threw it down to Nicky’s balcony, before turning to look at Neil.

“Yes or no?” he said, offering him a hand. Neil huffed a laugh and ducked his head, before accepting it.

“Always yes,” he said. As they fell into position, he murmured into the crook of his neck, “but there isn’t any music.”

Andrew guided Neil’s hands onto his waist, then put his own hands on the nape of Neil’s neck. “Your heart’s pounding.”

“So’s yours.”

Andrew pulled back slightly, letting their gazes interlock. They fell into step to the hustle of the night, wind and heartbeats blending together into a seamless rhythm that felt natural to them both.

“I wasn’t planning on getting married to a stranger anyway,” Neil muttered at some point. “And if they try and make me, I’ll run away and take you with me.”

“I’m the kingdom’s second prince, Junkie,” Andrew muttered back. “They’d cancel all weddings in town if I told them to.”

“Except Aaron’s,” Neil said. “I think he outranks you.”

“I don’t care what he does,” Andrew said. Neil swallowed a smile.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

Andrew was quiet for a few moments before speaking again. “Why are we talking about my brother?”

“You’re right,” Neil said, laughing quietly as to not disturb their silent music. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Or about you.”

“Or we could not talk at all.”

They quietened down. Finally, Andrew spoke up. “I want to kiss you, yes or no?”

Neil pulled back a little to examine his face. It was sincerely blank, but in a calm sort of way. Neil tilted his head, pretending to mull it over; in actuality, his heart was doing leaps in his chest, and, pressed against him as he was, he knew Andrew could feel it. “Yes.”

Andrew stretched slightly and kissed him. At first it was hesitant, until Neil kissed him back; then, Andrew pushed him back against the stone railing, and suddenly it was like a war waging. When Neil moved a hand up to reach over Andrew’s neck, Andrew grabbed his wrist, pulled him closer and kissed him harder.

“Hey,” Neil murmured into his mouth when they stopped to breathe. “I think I like you.”

Andrew’s eyes flicked up to meet his. Then, instead of replying, he kissed him again.

Neil didn’t complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray to disarray! Wait until they find out the truth about the wedding ;)  
> I hope you guys liked this chapter. Thank you as always for reading and supporting <3


	20. Chapter 20

Aaron walked into Andrew’s chambers the next morning to take something that he was _pretty_ sure was his, but stopped halfway across the room, eyes deadly fixated on the massive royal bed.

Andrew was cuddled in the blankets, back pressed against the wall. Nothing unusual so far. Okay, he was shirtless, but it’s not like Aaron’s never looked in a mirror before (he may or may not have commissioned the royal painter to paint him… you know… for Katelyn, but it was a secret; even his pigeons didn’t know). The unusual thing was the mop of red hair buried in the duvet next to Andrew.

Aaron stood there, unable to make himself move from the shock — up until the moment blue eyes owlishly blinked open, taking him in with a measure of calm. That calm held for all of three seconds, before Neil shouted, scrambled towards who-knew-where, fell off the bed and—

“Get away from my brother!” Aaron screeched. Okay, granted, Neil still had his boxers on, but the _implications_ —

“It’s not like that!” Neil yelled at him, throwing a pillow in his direction and missing by approximately a mile. “What the _fuck_ are you fucking doing here, you fucking _pervert_?”

Andrew shot awake, accidentally punching the bed-frame and violently swearing. Aaron moved eyes wide with horror from Neil to Andrew and regretted ever having stepped foot in here. Who cared about his belongings when— when—

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Andrew yelled — heavens above, Aaron’s never heard him this surprised, frankly he didn’t think he was capable of such an emotion — and threw the other pillow at him, hitting him square in the face. “Have you heard of privacy!”

“Neil, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you and burn you on a stake—“

“It wasn’t like that!” Neil yelled again, scrambling to stand up. His hair was mussed up in all directions and his neck was covered in hickeys, which really didn’t help his case at all. “I swear we didn’t—“

“For fuck’s sake, both of you just _shut up_!” Andrew yelled. “Aaron!”

Aaron’s eyes snapped to him in the haste of a terrified animal. If looks could kill, Aaron would’ve been disintegrated.

“Get the _fuck_ of my room,” Andrew said, slow and pronounced, like he was a five year old kid who’s stolen his balloon and didn’t want to give it back. “By tomorrow I’m having a reinforced fucking lock system installed—“

“Which you should’ve had in the first place, honestly,” Neil cut in.

“And you!” Andrew whirled around to him, but Aaron could see the words die in his mouth at the sight of the redhead. Andrew’s ears went bright red, and he threw the whole heavy duvet at him — which caused Neil to topple back to the ground again, buried under its weight.

“Did everyone fucking understand?” Andrew called out, eyes snapping back to Aaron. He pointed at the doors. “Out!”

“I’m going!” Aaron yelled, and bolted out of there, slamming the doors shut behind him.

Back inside, Andrew and Neil fell into a heavy silence.

“You okay down there?” Andrew finally asked, voice as monotone as if nothing has happened at all.

“I’ll live,” Neil breathed out, voice muffled from under the duvet. “Man, this is a nice blanket.”

Andrew sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of what just happened. Was it really just two days ago that Neil had been on the verge of death? And now he was in Andrew’s bed.

“Huh,” he said.

Neil wrestled free of the duvet, head peeking from under it. “I bet we traumatized Aaron.”

“About time he gets a taste of his own medicine,” said Andrew. Neil’s face turned intrigued.

“Did you walk in on him and Katelyn…?“

“More than once, yes.”

“No wonder you were against them getting married,” Neil humorously said, pulling himself and the duvet back onto the bed. His hand hovered over his abdomen, but a moment later he relaxed into the bed, not seeming overly concerned.

“You didn’t pop any stitches?” Andrew asked anyway.

“Nah,” Neil said, pulling the duvet up to his chin. Andrew, having been left without any blankets nor pillows, since those have been mis-categorized as deadly weapons, gave him a flat look.

Neil cheekily smiled back, and pulled the duvet even higher to cover his mouth. His voice was muffled when he spoke. “We need a game plan.”

Andrew looked at him inquiringly. He pulled the duvet toward himself by its edge, slowly prying it off of Neil.

“If you don’t want me getting married to someone else, that is,” Neil said, inconspicuously pulling it back. “We need to find a way to dismantle my wedding.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Andrew said, humoring him.

“Before we actually do anything,” Neil said, “we need to find out who I’m getting married to. Since they all seem to know, we need to exploit the weakest link.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “Nicky.”

Neil hummed, nodding. “Nicky.”

***

_Meanwhile, at Clarines’ Royal Pharmacy_

“Mission Flowers has been a success,” Allison announced, tapping a pointer stick against the small chalkboard attached to the wall.

The royal herbal team plus Kevin were all standing in the pharmacy’s newly-reconstructed supply closet. After the fire and the reconstruction, they’d decided that the supply closet would no longer contain any flammables, in order to prevent a repeat of recent events. While the important documents (all three of them that had survived) have been moved to separate archives, the flammables were contained in boxes out and about in the lab.

Seeing as this was a pharmacy, and all of their supplies — plants, disinfectants and whatnot — were flammable, the supply-closet ended up being completely empty. So they’d mixed things up; they’d cleared the room, hanged a chalkboard on the wall, and deemed it the perfect place to hold their annual secret meetings.

Or, like, meetings in general.

The one they were holding right now was definitely secret, though.

“But it’s just the first stage of the mission,” Kevin pointed out. “The mission is to get Neil and Andrew to get married.”

“First of all, smartass,” Allison said, waving her stick in his general direction, “the mission’s goal is to get Neil and Andrew to _decide_ to get married. Them getting married is already a given.”

Kevin swatted Allison’s stick aside with a scowl. “If it’s a given, then why can’t we just leave it be?”

“Because we all value our lives, Kevin,” said Nicky.

“Anyway!” Allison exclaimed, gesturing her stick around. Dan and Matt ducked to avoid getting hit with it. “Since _somebody_ told Neil he was getting married—“

“I panicked!” Matt said. “Trust me, Alli, he suspects nothing.”

“As a matter of fact, he suspects a lot,” Allison replied offhandedly. “But it has a simple solution. All we have to do is…” her voice trailed off, waiting for the others to complete the mantra they’ve been practicing for the last two days.

“Avoid talking about the wedding,” they parroted back in a chorus. Allison beamed.

“Exactly!” she said. “What we can also do, is turn Matt’s slip-up to our advantage.”

“How?” asked Renee.

“I have a plan,” Allison said, whirling back to the chalkboard. She pointed to the words _MISSION SUIT_ , which were scribbled after the arrow leading from _MISSION FLOWERS_. “It’s all been perfectly thought out. If it works, by the end of the day they’ll be officially engaged, and we will officially be out of the danger zone.”

“Wha-t,” said Matt, leaning against the wall with intrigued eyes.

“What’s your plan, Alli?” asked Dan. Allison grinned, mischief invading her smile, and pointed her stick at Matt.

“After careful planning,” she said, “I’ve decided that you’re the best man for the job, since, when the time comes, you’re the most likely to be Neil’s best man.”

Matt blushed. “You think?”

Kevin scowl deepened by seven degrees, and he angrily crossed his arms. “That’s nonsense. Neil would clearly want _me_ to be his best man.”

The room’s occupants flicked curious eyes to him. Kevin seemed to be deeply offended by their surprise, and scoffed. “He’s known me since he was eleven. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

Allison hummed contemplatively. She then pointed her stick toward Kevin and said, “in that case, you shall accompany Matt on his mission. That way we can be certain it’ll work, regardless of whom Neil chooses to be his best man.”

Matt and Kevin both nodded, one more enthusiastic than the other.

Allison told them the plan for _MISSION SUIT_.

“Now,” she said after making sure they both understood, and pointed her stick at another part of the chalkboard. Another arrow led from _MISSION SUIT_ to _MISSION PROPOSAL_. “Taking care of just one side of the equation isn’t enough. While Matt and Kevin do their mission, Nicky—“ she pointed her stick at a startled Nicky— “will take care of Andrew.”

“Why me?” Nicky protested.

“Because you’re his family, and he trusts you,” she explained. “Besides, you won’t be alone. You—“ she turned to point her stick at someone else, before suddenly falling silent. “Where’s Aaron?”

Everyone shrugged. Allison sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I told him we were meeting now.”

“I’m sure he has a reason for his absence,” Renee spoke up.

“Like, maybe he misunderstood and is waiting in a different supply closet,” suggested Nicky. “There’re a lot of them around here, you know.”

“Well, we don’t have time to waste waiting for him. So you—“ Allison turned back to Nicky, “will update him about the plan.”

She relayed the plan to him.

“What about us?” Dan said once she was finished, gesturing at Renee and herself. Allison’s grin widened dangerously, and she pointed her stick at what came after the third arrow, which led from _MISSION PROPOSAL_ to _MISSION COLLATERAL_.

“Our mission,” she said mischievously, “comes into play after everyone else has accomplished theirs.”

Once everyone knew their roles, Allison pronounced the secret meeting officially over. They came out of the supply closet, and all set out do their parts.

The mission was a go.

***

_MISSION SUIT_

_Status: undergoing_

Matt peaked into Neil’s room, only to find it dark and empty.

“Well done, Boyd,” Kevin whispered, peaking his head in as well. “We haven’t even started, and you’ve already failed.

“Shut up, Kevin,” Matt whispered back, carefully surveying the premises. When he was relatively certain Neil was, in fact, not here, he pulled Kevin in after him.

They turned on the lamps, quickly searched the room and ascertained that Neil was definitely not here. Then they sat down on his bed and waited. After all, the plan couldn’t possibly work without Neil.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait very long. It was five minutes later when Neil stalked into the room, his chin buried in a thick, black scarf that covered most of his long-sleeved gray tee, black cargo pants tucked into his battered brown boots.

Matt and Kevin both sprang to their feet at his entrance; Kevin narrowed his eyes at the attire, but didn’t comment. They had to be focused for this mission to succeed.

Neil belatedly realized he wasn’t alone in the room and jerked away, before recognition flickered across his features. “Matt? Kevin? What are you guys doing here?”

“Neil!” exclaimed Matt, approaching the redhead. “Have I mentioned how glad I amthat you’re alive?”

Neil smiled bemusedly. “Yeah, Matt, you did.”

“Well,” Matt said, pressing at the vowel and pulling Neil closer to him, “since you’re alive, and you know, kind of well—“

“I’m completely fine—“

“We _thought_ ,” Matt continued, “that we should take you downtown.”

Neil blinked. “Downtown?”

“It’s a surprise,” Kevin said, in a tone that disclosed his poor acting skills on top of his lack of excitement. He was probably still bitter about Allison’s earlier assumption.

Neil’s eyes narrowed. “A surprise?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” Matt quickly said, turning Neil by the shoulders and ushering him back out of the room. Kevin followed them, making sure Neil couldn’t slip away from Matt and go back. Not that he had any reason to. It was all very vanilla.

And then they bumped into Jeremy.

Kevin and Matt both swore softly as the captain of the royal guard lifted his eyes from the stack of papers he was holding, and a dazzling delight lit up his face when he saw Neil. “Neil, it’s so good to see you again!”

Neil hesitantly smiled back. “Hey, Jeremy.”

“How was your mission?” Jeremy conversationally asked, glancing at both Matt and Kevin. Once his eyes were off of them, they exchanged nervous looks. Matt shifted closer to Neil, as if hiding him from sight would make everything that’s ever gone wrong go away altogether.

But the problem, as problems tend to do, didn’t go away. Neil frowned and said, “my mission?”

“Went _swell_ ,” interfered Matt, smiling a strained smile of his own. “The plants were all procured, and no one ever noticed Neil was undercover in the first place. Turns out he’s got a talent for blending in.”

Neil lifted baffled eyes to him, and Matt gave him a meaningful look. That meaning seemed to have been lost on him, though, because the confusion didn’t clear.

They both looked back to Jeremy, who quirked an eyebrow at the interaction. “And what do you plan to do, now that you’re back?”

“Oh, you know,” Neil said, shrugging. “Plants and stuff.” He suddenly straightened, and looked back to Matt. “Do you think Dan will give me a promotion after everything that’s happened?”

“She ought to, isn’t she?” Jeremy said before Matt could answer. “I mean, you faked your death, went undercover and saved a whole species of plants from being wiped off the face of the earth. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Neil blinked thrice.

“I’m sure she will,” Matt said, starting to usher Neil away. “It was really nice catching up, Jeremy, but we really have to go.”

“Oh, alright,” Jeremy said good-naturedly. “Oh, I almost forgot! Neil, I’m so happy for you.”

Neil turned to him, brow creased. “Thanks?”

Matt, from behind Neil, gestured for Jeremy to stop talking. Jeremy frowned, looked between the three of them — the bewildered Matt; a nervous Kevin; a very confused Neil — and a look of consideration crossed his face.

“Anyway, yeah, congratulations,” he ended up saying, stepping away. “I’ll just go back to work.”

“Keep keeping this kingdom safe,” Matt said, smiling wide. Jeremy nodded at him appreciatively and walked away.

Once he was out of sight, Kevin and Matt both let out long-suffering, relieved sighs. Neil spun around to face them. “You guys told everyone that I faked my death?”

“And went undercover,” Kevin added.

“To save endangered plants,” said Matt. “It was very courageous of you, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Neil dryly said. “You couldn’t have told me that, you know, before?”

“Kind of forgot,” muttered Kevin.

“Because we’ve been so glad that you’re not dead,” supplied Matt.

“It’s a good thing I’m not, too,” Neil said. “Imagine if you had to tell everyone that I died after you told them that I faked my death. That would’ve been awkward.”

“Yep,” said Kevin, popping the _p_.

“But you’re alive,” Matt said, sending Kevin a flat glare and turning Neil around by the shoulders to once again usher him away. “And it’s all under control.”

They found their way out of the castle, thankfully not encountering any more people with too much information on their hands. There were a few guards who were glad to see Neil again, but aside from that, it seemed to be a slow day, people-wise.

They walked out of the castle’s premises and descended downtown. It’s been a while, Neil suddenly realized, since he’s been here. Before he became a court-herbalist, he used to live in the cheap inn down the street, with the rats in the walls and the scuffling neighbors. Neil suddenly remembered that he wasn’t from here at all — that he’s never planned on ending up here.

Or on staying, for that matter.

He walked slowly, half admiring the busy streets and half sinking into his own thoughts. He’s met Andrew, and that was pure luck; Andrew’s saved him, and that — well, Neil didn’t know what that was. But it was something, and now they were something, too. Neil felt all fuzzy inside thinking about it.

They came to a stop rather suddenly, and Neil saw they were standing in front of an expensive-looking tailor shop. “We’re buying a suit?”

“I was thinking we could go in to take a look,” Matt said, guiding him forward. “Not to buy anything, yet, if you don’t want to. But since you’re getting married…”

“About that—“ Neil started.

“It’s the best tailor in town,” Kevin noted. “In the whole area, actually. I ordered a few suits from here, when I still worked in Tanbarun.”

Neil eyed the shop warily. “I don’t know, Kevin.”

“Just try,” Matt encouraged him. “Maybe you’ll find something you like.”

Neil didn’t like the idea. He didn’t particularly want to go in, either; but there was the plan. He and Andrew have agreed on a discreet way of action, and that meant not raising any suspicions until they had all the cards to dismantle the operation.

He walked into the shop, and was immediately met with the sight of countless suit displays. His gaze dumbfoundedly skipped from mannequin to mannequin, taking in the different designs. Everything in here looked crazy expensive; and, shoving his hand into his pocket, he was met with less than a handful of coins.

He shot Matt a reluctant look, but that gave him an encouraging smile. “See anything you like?”

“It’s all too fancy,” he muttered, unconsciously hunching his shoulders. “I couldn’t buy any of these.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” Matt said. “We’ve got you covered.”

Neil quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you earn the same as me?”

“Well, yes, but An—“

“It’s on the _house_ ,” Kevin said, pushing Matt slightly away. Matt’s eyes widened, and he bit both his lips so that they turned into a thin, white line. “I’m friends with the tailor,” Kevin added.

“You are?” Neil said, a teasing edge to his voice. Kevin nodded all importantly.

“We go wayyyy back,” he said. He guided Neil forward, gesturing here and there at the different suits, babbling facts about the procurement of the fabrics and fashion trends. Neil lended him half-an-absent ear, eyes glazing off of the different colors and patterns, not finding anything that looked even remotely attractive to him. Matt tugged along, occasionally pointing out this or that design, but Neil shook his head every time.

They were at the back of the shop when his sight fell on an all-black suit. Its shades were dark and pronounced, the hems of the thick, most-outer jacket embroidered with black threads that gently stood out. The vest was tight-fitting. The undershirt, black and silky.

He, himself, wouldn’t have wanted to wear it. It would stand out too much, on him. But being simple and bold, it made him think of a certain blond someone.

He stopped in front of the mannequin; Matt and Kevin have grown used enough to his indifference to only belatedly realize that he did. Matt looked the suit up and down, and then turned questioning eyes to Neil. “You like that one?”

“No,” Neil said.

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off of it. He didn’t understand much about fashion — Allison would be the first to advocate that, probably — but somehow, he got the sense this would fit Andrew. _Really_ well. And he kind of wanted to see him in it.

He felt faint heat climbing up his neck, and buried his chin in his scarf. “I’m going out for air.”

Matt and Kevin gave him startled looks, protests on their tongues, but Neil was already leaving. He crossed the shop, leaving them to scramble after him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew they were trying to make him want to get married, and have dragged him here to… inspire him, or whatever. If anything, it backfired — because now he was thinking about _Andrew_ , and thinking about Andrew made him think about this morning, and last night, and he was refilled with utmost resolve to not get married to anyone else, no matter what.

Despite himself, Neil sneaked a glance at the black suit before leaving. It was a nice suit; befitting of a prince.

_MISSION SUIT_

_Status: Matt and Kevin are freaking out, not realizing that it’s been accomplished._

***

_MISSION PROPOSAL_

_Status: undergoing_

Nicky knocked on Andrew’s chambers’ doors, shying away at the muffled _stomp stomp stomp_ that could be heard from the other side. Aaron, beside him, made sure to stand five feet away from the door as Andrew opened it, glaring out at them. “What.”

“Andrew! My favorite cousin,” Nicky smirked, pushing his way inside. Aaron paled at Andrew’s death glare, but, seeing as Nicky was still breathing, waddled in after him. “We need to have a talk.”

Andrew looked after them as they continued to invade his space, emanating an intimidating aura. Aaron couldn’t help but have flashbacks of this morning; right before they came here, Nicky had found him sitting in a dark alcove, his head bowed between his knees as he’d been having an existential crisis. He’s been so sure that the marriage was just a massive fuck-up. He never could’ve imagined that Neil and Andrew were… were… were maybe actually going through with it.

And now he was in Andrew’s chambers once again, doing his part in ensuring that they will, in fact, be getting married.

Aaron didn’t think playing matchmaker suited him.

Ah, well. Worst case scenario, he had some type of an expensive rare-wood casket lying around somewhere. It’d been a gift from his father, coming back from a business trip in some distant continent. Aaron, nine at the time, had been quite appalled — was it some kind of a twisted hint? But then Andrew had mocked him, pointing out the casket was way too big.

Let’s just say it wasn’t too big anymore.

Aaron swallowed, eyes fixed on Andrew. Andrew, who was walking more leisurely than he had any right to, honestly, and flopped down on his sofa. Nicky sat down in the armchair opposite him and leaned his forearms against his knees.

Aaron, still standing by the threshold, appreciated his cousin’s courage.

“So, Andrew,” Nicky started. “You know Neil’s getting married.”

Andrew’s eyebrows quirked. “You don’t say,” he flatly said.

“And I,” Nicky said, gesturing at himself, “thought that, as your favorite cousin, I should offer you the advice I’ve gathered over many years of experience. Have I ever told you of the wedding I crashed when I was sixteen?”

Aaron and Andrew both groaned.

Nicky sighed dramatically, a distant look invading his eyes. He dreamily observed the wall behind Andrew. “I was but sixteen, a young teen. So clueless of the world around me.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t grown up yet,” Aaron dryly quipped from the threshold. Nicky shot him a glare, before falling back into his nostalgic trance.

“You must remember the years I spent away,” he said.

“They were very peaceful,” Andrew nodded.

“I’ve known Erik for five months when I’d gotten the news.” Nicky’s expression fell, turning full of devastated grief. “He was getting married. And I, poor, stupid me, I hadn’t yet asked him out.” He shook his head gravely. “And fate was cruel, telling me that it was too late.”

Andrew sighed resignedly, meeting Aaron’s eyes. Aaron shrugged.

“But then!” Nicky exclaimed, making Aaron startle. Andrew’s eyes flicked back to Nicky impassively as he continued to tell his tale. “But then I had this vision. This _premonition;_ deep in the shadows of the night, it whispered to me in my dreams.”

“That just sounds weird, Nicky,” Aaron said.

“But it’s true,” Nicky said, in much the same tone a father would tell his child that the tooth fairy really did exist. “And when I woke up, I knew what I had to do.”

“You went and crashed the wedding,” Andrew simply concluded, leaning back against the cushions of his couch. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and, as he lit it, said, “end of the story. Now, children, go brush your teeth and go to sleep.”

Nicky scowled. “It was way more dramatic than that.”

“And then Erik came to work here,” Aaron pointed out. “And you two pretended you weren’t constantly making out in closets instead of doing your jobs.”

Nicky turned a flat look to him. “It was very romantic.”

“It also caused a fire,” Andrew pointed out.

“That’s on Neil, not on us,” Nicky dismissively said. “Speaking of Neil. You get my point, don’t you?”

Andrew huffed out smoke. “No.”

Nicky facepalmed. “But I was being so clear.”

“You told me a story I’ve heard a dozen times before,” Andrew said. “Hey, I even finished it for you.”

“Aaron, help me out here.”

Aaron didn’t want to help him out, but what choice did he have? “Are you really, uh,” he said, avoiding Andrew’s eyes, “willing to, uh, let-Neil-get-married?”

“It depends,” Andrew said, and both Nicky and Aaron narrowed their eyes at him in disbelief. Andrew huffed out a little more smoke, stubbed the cigarette out on a plate on the table, and made eye contact with Nicky. “Who’s he getting married to?”

“It’s, a, it’s,” Nicky said.

“It’s classified,” Aaron supplied. Andrew turned his eyes to him, hard and level, and Aaron inwardly flinched. _Fuck. Abort abort abort. This wasn’t a part of the plan. This was a stupid plan, anyway, it was never going to work—_

“You’re our dear crown prince,” Andrew evenly told him. “I’m sure you could spare the details for you beloved brother.”

Nicky almost snorted. Aaron felt his face drain of color. Then, to his horror, he realized he was opening his mouth to speak.

“Whoever he’s getting married to, you can’t let it happen, can you?” he heard himself say. “Especially not after—“

“Shut up,” Andrew said. Nicky looked curiously between them.

“He’s right, you know,” he said, choosing to believe that Andrew was in denial. “And it was my point, too. Don’t let yourself miss this chance. Ask the poor boy out, while you still can.”

“Ask him out?” Andrew sneered. “He’s getting married, asshat.”

They both saw the way his ears reddened, but neither commented on that.

“You know what you can do,” Nicky said. “Since you’re the kingdom’s second prince, your interest is theoretically above that of, say, Neil’s fiancé.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“Nicky’s point is that he wants you to _ask him out_ ,” Aaron meaningfully explained. “Like. You know. With flowers and a ring.”

There was a sudden, stifling silence in the room as everyone blinked, each more confused than the next. Aaron was just turning to go get his shovel when Andrew said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

_What_? Aaron thought. He shot Nicky an inquiring look, but that helplessly shrugged. _Holy shit,_ Aaron then thought. _I’m not dead. Andrew’s not even looking at me._

And he wasn’t. He was looking at Nicky, heavy intent in his eyes, and Aaron could almost see the way Nicky gulped.

It looked like Allison’s crazy plan was _working_. What the ever-loving fuck?

“You have to trust your heart, Andrew,” Nicky said, with feeling. “What do you want?”

“I want nothing,” Andrew said. For once, it didn’t sound very convincing.

Nicky lifted his eyebrows at him.

“But we’re not having a double wedding,” Aaron said. Andrew snapped out of stupor and catapulted a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

_MISSION PROPOSAL_

_Status: Nicky and Aaron are exhilarated to be alive, and freaking out because it actually worked._

_***_

_MISSION COLLATERAL_

_Status: pending._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will the girls fare in their mission? Stay tuned to find out!!
> 
> As always, thanks you guys for reading. I hope you enjoyed <3


	21. Chapter 21

Upon arriving back at the castle, Neil detached himself from Matt’s and Kevin’s company, despite their oddly vehement protests. He made his way straight for Andrew’s chambers.

He got there right when Nicky and Aaron stepped out. Neither of them seemed surprised to see him; Nicky even sent him a thumbs-up, patting his shoulder as he passed by. And before Neil could ask him what they were doing here, they were gone.

Neil shook his head to clear away his confusion and entered without knocking.

Andrew looked up to him from his place on the sofa. “I know who you’re getting married to.”

“You do?” Neil said. He flopped down next to him, crinkling his nose. “Why do you always have to smoke indoors?”

“You like it,” Andrew dismissively said. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“Me liking it doesn’t make it not ruin your furniture.”

Andrew lifted an eyebrow at him. “Because I really can’t afford replacements, with all the wealth of an entire kingdom.”

“It really depends on the kingdom,” Neil said. He hanged expectant eyes on Andrew, half-turned to him against the sofa with his arm flung across the back rest. His hand was really close to Andrew’s hair; a little stretch, and he could test how fluffy it was. “You were saying?”

“Ah, yes,” Andrew gravely hummed, leaning back. “Apparently, we’re getting married next month.”

Neil choked on his own spit, pulling back. “We’re _what_?”

“You heard me,” Andrew said, leveling an even look at him. “We’re getting married. Nicky all but demanded I tell you that.”

“He _what_? Why? What?” Neil said, head whipping from Andrew to the door and back again, and then restarting the cycle. “He just _told_ you?”

“Well, he told me to crush your wedding and break your poor fiancé’s heart,” Andrew specified. “Which he wouldn’t tell me to do. Believe me. He’s too lovey-dovey for that.”

“I don’t get it,” Neil said. “How are you supposed to crush your own wedding? What, after I say,” he made a face, lowering his voice in an imitation of, apparently, what he was going to sound like on his wedding day, “ _I do,_ and the priest asks you if you do too, you’re gonna say,” his voice dropped another octave and a half, “ _I don’t, haha, go screw yourself while I go cry in a corner over my broken heart_?”

Andrew stared at him incomprehensibly. “You know what, I want a divorce.”

“Or like that,” Neil said with a shrug, eyes big and innocently round. He then snickered to himself. “Imagine if everyone gathered to witness our wedding only to find out we’re getting divorced.”

“The peak of comedy,” Andrew dryly said.

“I know, it’s a talent of mine,” Neil said, grinning like the idiot that he was. His fingers absentmindedly brushed against Andrew’s hair as he wonderingly observed his face. “And what, you’re okay with that?”

“Our relationship was long overdue an upgrade,” said Andrew.

“Holy shit,” Neil suddenly said, hand freezing. “So _that’s_ what it was all about!”

Andrew looked at him inquiringly.

“Matt and Kevin dragged me to the tailor just now and tried to convince me that I want to get married,” Neil explained, thinking back to the black suit. His cheeks heated up. “You know, there was a suit there that would really fit you.”

“You do know princes have designated wedding attire, right?”

Neil stared at him, scandalized. “But it would fit you so well.”

Andrew shrugged. “You wear it, then.”

“What? Why would I?”

“We both know you aren’t going to pick your own clothes, anyway,” Andrew said. “So you might as well pick what I would’ve picked for you. Surprise me.”

“Surprise you,” Neil flatly said. “How am I going to surprise you? It’s _your_ style.”

Andrew looked at him evenly. “Surprise me.”

“You know what, fine,” Neil sighed, continuing to test the fluffiness of Andrew’s hair. Seven out of ten, he would say. There was always room for improvement. “D’you think we should tell everyone we’re onto them?”

“Let them panic in peace,” Andrew said. “For now. We’ll strike when they least expect it.”

A mischievous glint invaded Neil’s eyes. “Is it a revenge plot I detect?”

Andrew shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Neil grinned, in all the maliciousness of a psychotic kitten.

***

_MISSION COLLATERAL_

_Status: undergoing. The girls are none the wiser. No-one is any the wiser. Neil himself hardly knows what’s going on, but seeing as he isn't getting married to anyone who isn’t Andrew, he doesn’t really care._

Neil came into the pharmacy to see Allison, Dan and Renee sitting by the table at the centre of it. They were hunched over papers, seemingly sorting and cataloguing plants; Neil sheepishly reminded himself to help them later.

He took a seat next to Allison with a melodramatic sigh, making a show of slumping his shoulders and looking conflicted. The girls all stopped what they were doing and lifted their eyes to him.

“Is everything alright?” asked Renee.

Neil let out another melodramatic sigh. “You wouldn’t _believe_ what happened.”

The girls all exchanged looks, before Dan humored him. “What happened?”

Neil straightened, leaning forward with an intense air about him. “So you know how Andrew and I have been kidnapped by pirates together?” he said, and the three of them nodded. “So while we were captive together, we kind of, you know, bonded. Like in the movies.” The three of them nodded again, gravely this time. Neil tilted his head this and that way, mulling over his words. “And we kind of decided we wanted to, you know, _deepen_ our bond.”

“I’m not sure how much more I want to hear,” Dan said.

“I _definitely_ want to see where that was going,” Allison chuckled. Neil frowned at her.

“So,” he said, deciding to go on, “while we were on the ship, all captives and alone together and bonding to the light of the candles—” Renee stifled a smile at that, and he dropped his eyes, latching very tight onto his composure—“so we kind of decided to get married.”

The three girls stared at him in baffled silence. Allison’s gaze was the hardest, and Neil actually had to close his eyes and take a deep breath as to not to give himself away. “Yeah. So. You guys must understand why I can’t get married to whomever you said I was getting married to.”

“Why—“ Allison gulped, then burst out laughing. “Why didn’t you say something _before_ , you colossal idiot?”

Neil shrugged. “You guys looked so excited to see me getting married. I guess I didn’t want to upset ya’ll.”

“What, by getting married anyway?” Asked Dan.

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Renee agreed. And then she frowned. “I wonder why Andrew didn’t say anything about it when we were coming to rescue you.”

“You know,” Neil said, pulling at the word. “I might’ve been dead. It would’ve been kind of a bummer if he’d told you we’re getting married, and then, you know, if you guys had found me not exactly breathing.”

Everybody cringed a little; but they couldn’t deny that it seemed like a perfectly sensible conclusion to arrive at.

“But Andrew doesn’t care about upsetting us,” Allison suddenly said.

“Yes he does,” Neil countered, fiercer than he’s intended. “He cares about me, and since _I_ care about you guys, by default, he cares about you too. I think there’s a math rule about that.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Dan said, bemused. “By that logic, he’d also care about Katelyn since he cares about Aaron, and we all know what he thinks of Katelyn.”

“Yeah, but, eh—“ Neil cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. The girls all shifted closer to him. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

Allison’s eyes widened. “He’s having an affair?”

Neil blinked at her, then narrowed his eyes. “What? No. He just cares about her more than he lets on.”

“I can’t imagine him with Katelyn,” Renee said.

“I mean, technically,” Dan said, shrugging halfheartedly. “He and Aaron do look the same. If we’re speaking purely visually.”

“What are you talking about?” Neil said, frown deepening. “They look nothing alike.”

“Neil, honey, they’re identical twins,” Allison said.

“I know that,” Neil said. “But that doesn’t mean they look the same. For one thing, they dress differently. And Andrew’s bulkier. And his hair’s fluffier. And—“

“Okay, lover-boy, we yield,” Dan huffed, smiling. She sighed, propping her cheek again her palm, elbow perched against the tabletop. “You guys are really getting married, huh?”

Neil’s face reddened slightly, and he lowered his head. “Yeah. Tell that other girl her wedding is canceled.”

“No problem,” said Allison. She bit down her smile, straightening her shoulders. “So are we invited?”

“No,” Neil deadpanned. “I’ll go invite all my _other_ friends who live in the forest, instead.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds feasible,” Dan teased. “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it beyond you.”

“I’m your friend from the forest,” Allison said, and Dan laughed, hiding her mouth with the back of her palm.

“I completely forgot about that,” she said, laugh subsiding to tiny giggles. “You didn’t live there, did you, Alli?”

“She had a cabin,” Neil said, grinning. “With a fireplace and a teapot and everything.”

Allison’s cheeks flooded red, and she buried her face in her hands. “Don’t remind me. I wish I could go back to past me and smack some sense into her.”

“It’s a good thing Neil was there to do that for you,” Renee teasingly said, smiling faintly. “Where would we be without him, huh?”

“In a different pharmacy, for one,” Dan said. They all let out nostalgic sighs.

Then, every one of them swallowed a conspiring smirk, thinking their mission has been accomplished. They were all right, of course, but in all the wrong ways.

_MISSION COLLATERAL_

_Status: Successfully accomplished. Allison is very proud of herself._

***

_A Few Hours Later, in The Secret-Meeting Supply-Closet, During a Secret Meeting_

“I’m very proud of you guys,” Allison pronounced, smacking her pointer-stick against the chalkboard. There were a lot of hearts and smiley-faces drawn on it. “Thanks to you, we’ll all get to live another day.”

“Am I the only one thinking that was way too easy?” Aaron skeptically said. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a deep scowl distorting his features. “This is Andrew we’re talking about.”

“Maybe he’s too lovesick to see our ploys,” Matt suggested. Aaron deadpanned him a vacant glare.

“Say that again, but slowly,” he flatly said.

Allison smacked her stick against the chalkboard again. “I call for order!”

“This isn’t a court, Alli,” Dan said.

“Not yet,” replied Allison. “Now that we’ve fixed all of our mistakes, we can go on enjoying our lives, and actually start planning the wedding.”

“Shouldn’t they be doing that?” said Nicky.

“If we leave them to their own devices, they’d end up getting married in a shed with plastic rings,” Allison said, waving the stick in front of Nicky’s face. Nicky thought that over, then shrugged.

“But that’s all the problems of tomorrow,” Allison continued, turning toward the rest of the room. “For today, good job, everybody. Now that they’ll never find out we’ve accidentally told everyone they eloped, I can finally sleep at night.”

***

_Meanwhile, Outside The Secret-Meeting Supply-Closet’s Window_

Neil peered into the supply-closet through the small window, stationed high up in the wall. His face barely reached it, and he had to stretch his neck and whole body to see anything of what was going on; on the plus side, it allowed him to remain generally undetected. The voices carried perfectly comprehensibly from inside, since the window was open.

“Hurry up,” Andrew grunted below him, from where Neil was sitting on his shoulders. Neil glanced down at him, only to see him looking up.

“I can’t exactly fast-forward the secret meeting, genius,” Neil said, before re-stretching his neck to glimpse back inside. Allison was just done telling everyone how she could sleep again at night — for now, anyway — and Neil couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “They really _did_ set us up, Andrew.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Andrew said, sounding only a little pissed. “In fact, I _have_ told you that. Multiple times.”

“But to hear them say it!” Neil exclaimed. Allison’s eyes snapped to the window, and he hurried to duck his head under the windowsill. He lowered his voice. “How can someone _accidentally_ announce that their friends are getting married? It’s like accidentally having a child.”

“That’s not a good analogy, Junkie,” Andrew told him.

“Oh, screw you,” Neil said, scowling down at him. “Everybody has a problem with my analogies today.”

“Maybe you should stop making analogies, then.”

“Maybe I will,” Neil grumbled. Andrew looked blankly up at him.

“You done?” he cynically said, lifting his eyebrows. “My back hurts.”

“I don’t think they’re done yet,” Neil said, peering into the supply-closet again — only to find it empty. “Oh, yeah, they’re done.”

Andrew heaved him back down before he finished talking, and Neil hopped off of him, soles hitting the fresh grass. Andrew rolled his shoulders a few times, stretched, then straightened. “Let’s not do that again.”

“But we have to attend the meetings somehow,” Neil said. “I can’t let them plan our wedding without us.”

“What does it matter? You can’t suggest anything,” Andrew said. “And it’s not like you’re not going to find out what they do.”

“Yeah, but it feels wrong, doesn’t it?” said Neil. Andrew shrugged, and Neil narrowed his eyes. “You actually wouldn’t mind getting married in a shed, would you.”

Andrew shrugged. “A church is technically a really big shed.”

“Maybe we should get married in a greenhouse,” Neil wondered out loud.

“Let’s not,” Andrew flatly said.

“If we’re going on the technical route, a greenhouse is just a plant-shed.”

Andrew let out a heavy sigh, and promptly turned around. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Not in a shed, I hope!” Neil yelled after him. Andrew kicked a patch of grass hard enough that dirt went flying, and Neil couldn’t help but laugh.

He let his laughter subside; when it did, he followed in Andrew’s footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil, arriving at the wedding with a Hawaiian shirt and a Mohawk: Andrew, where are you going? You told me to surprise you!
> 
> Thank you guys for reading!! I hope you enjoyed <3


	22. Chapter 22

Neil locked the greenhouse behind him, stepping out into the cold, dark, vacant night. The leaves were swishing. An owl hooted high up from one of the trees. A cricket cricketed somewhere in the shadows surrounding him.

The _click_ of the lock echoed in the night.

Neil sighed, adjusting his satchel against his shoulder. He’s gotten back to work as soon as he could, having felt quite detached without the company of the plants he’s grown used to seeing as a court herbalist.

He’s sure missed this kind of work. His mind wandered to his days back in Tanbarun, and to the little herbal shop that he’d had; it had been all his, and he’d been responsible to all the steps of making the medicine. He thought of Mrs. Murray, and of her headaches; did she still get them? And what of his other costumers?

He wondered whether somebody had bought off his shop, or just taken the abandoned vacancy for himself. Maybe Riko had sold it. Or maybe they’d taken it down; built something else in its place. Or maybe they’d done nothing with it at all.

Sometimes — recently, especially — Neil wondered what would’ve happened had Riko never chased him away from the kingdom. Would he still be getting into this much trouble? Would he still have met Andrew? But the rational part of his brain knew that either way, he was always going to fall into some business that wasn’t good for him. It seemed to be a constant in his life.

Right as he thought it, he heard a snap from the shadows. He looked over at the shadows and the branches between them, tensing, and carefully approached. “Is somebody there?”

There was another snap, and a quick skid. Neil approached even closer, trying to track the source of the noise. Maybe it was a squirrel; Neil, coincidentally, had a pack of nuts in his satchel, in case it was hungry. Well, the nuts were originally there in case _he_ was hungry, but if the squirrel was hungry, it was only polite to offer them.

He made _psst-psst-psst_ noises at the darkness, reaching into his satchel to take out the nut-pack. He was just about to tear them open and throw one into the void when he suddenly felt a presence behind him.

He whirled, nuts ready to fire — in time to hear Andrew saying, “the hell are you doing?”

Neil relaxed, dropping the nuts back in their package. “I’m trying to lure out a squirrel.”

Something complicated passed across Andrew’s face. “Why.”

“Because it might be—“

But before Neil could finish, a low, feral growl cut through the night. Neil and Andrew both looked back at the dark void, listening as a slow, deliberate _Pat, Pat, Pat_ came closer.

“Does that sound like a squirrel to you?” Neil asked, voice slightly pitched in alarm. He leaned back, keeping the nut-pack close to himself. Andrew opened his mouth to answer, but another growl intercepted him — louder, closer, and full of indescribable menace.

“The fuck kind of squirrel makes a noise like that?” Neil exclaimed, shuffling away. The shadows moved, morphed, reached for him — and he found himself climbing to his feet and grabbing Andrew’s sleeve, while Andrew stood stoically, sizing up the darkness.

And then the _Pat, Pat, Pat_ morphed back into a _pat-pat-pat_ , and the squirrel was gone.

Neil pulled Andrew by the sleeve after him, and they walked back to the castle, leaving the horrors of the night behind them.

***

It was three days before the squirrel reemerged.

Neil was walking out of a completely different greenhouse, pulling after him an approximate fuck-ton of wheat in two big, brown potato sacks. He was too busy with the cargo to pay attention to his surroundings; which, he should’ve known, was always the beginning of a catastrophe.

He was halfway up a small hill when the heard a low, ominous growl from the bushes. He froze in his place and looked to his sides, not releasing his death-hold on the bags; if he did, he feared they’d fall all the way down. The growl ceased as Neil’s gaze went over a certain bush, but resumed as soon as he looked elsewhere.

“Good squirrel,” he cooed at the bushes, trying to calm its malicious-sounding soul. “Everything’s good. You want nuts? I’ve got nuts.”

The growl intensified, which Neil reluctantly accepted as, _give me all your nuts or I’ll sacrifice you to Ratatoskr_. The only problem was that Neil had no way of reaching into his satchel without letting go of his wheat-sacks.

In the split-second he spent hesitating, the squirrel attacked.

A flurry of fur and anger and _claws_ — did squirrels even _have_ claws? — lunged at him from the bushes. Neil felt additional weight attaching itself to the sacks, and then the thin sound of them being torn open sliced the air. Neil stumbled back, trying to save himself and dropping the sacks in the process.

He could only watch as the sacks tumbled down the hill, wheat flying out of the tears like feathers out of a pillow — until finally there was a definitive, muffled _thud_ , and the bottom of the hill was overflown with golden wheat.

Neil looked around him, trying to find the culprit — but he could only detect the end of a tail disappearing up a tree.

***

_Later That Day_

Andrew was leaning against his balcony, smoking a cigarette into the night, when he noticed something odd.

There was something dark and splotchy-looking attached to the wall not to far below him. At first, Andrew dismissed it as a weird shadow — but then it moved.

Andrew let out a curious puff of smoke as whatever it was climbed up. The night was dark, lacking a proper moon, and he couldn’t see what it was for sure; but he could detect the movement. His gaze followed it as it leaped up, attaching itself to a stone shelf. A puff and another, and then it sprang even higher, claws latching onto the edge of the balcony.

Andrew looked down at the big, wide, clear eyes that met his. It was small. It was indeed splotchy — mostly black, some gray and some white and tiny bit of orange sprinkled around its nose. It had whiskers, and ears raised in curiosity, and a fluffy tail moving from side to side. Andrew watched as the cat pulled itself up, perching itself next to Andrew’s elbows; unheeding of his attention, the cat curled into a small ball, and rested its head so that it could look at Andrew.

Andrew wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do, so he did nothing.

He smoked his cigarette, decorating the black night’s air with long, thin tendrils of smoke. He stubbed it out and sent it down to become Nicky’s problem, as all his cigarettes were fated to become. And then he continued leaning against the balcony, looking into the night, aware of the cat’s presence in his periphery but not paying it any particular mind.

The cat wheezed a little, before its breathing seemed to settle down.

When Andrew was sick of all this fresh air, he straightened and turned around to walk back inside. But before he reached the balcony’s glass door, a muffled _thump_ made him halt, and he looked over his shoulder at the ground.

The cat looked innocently back, stalking the distance between them until it reached Andrew’s legs and started rubbing itself against his pants. Andrew stilled, looking down at it without a muscle itching; the cat rubbed and rubbed, until it circled around his legs one last time, tail lagging behind, and promptly lied down on Andrew’s feet.

Andrew lifted one foot slightly, carefully, but the cat didn’t stir. It was kind of heavy for such a small thing.

Andrew blinked a couple of time, thinking. Then he said, “why are you doing this?”

The cat opened its eyes and looked up, meeting Andrew’s inquiring gaze. Then it mewled.

They looked at each other for a few moments, before Andrew tried to lift his foot again. The cat begrudgingly stepped away, and Andrew stalked into his chambers, meaning to shut the door behind him and let the cat do his cat things outside.

Alas, the cat had different plans. It shimmied past the closing door, scurrying ahead of Andrew, before stopping abruptly and looking back at him.

Andrew sighed and approached his bed. An energized _pat-pat-pat_ followed him, stopping the very moment he turned around to shoot the creature a narrow, disapproving glare. The cat was sitting perfectly civil on his carpet, innocently looking up at him.

“You’re bypassing royal territory,” Andrew told it, discreetly creeping away toward his bed. The cat tilted its head, and Andrew tried to scare it off with his glare. “I could have you prosecuted for treason.”

The cat mewled at him.

Andrew rubbed a hand against his mouth in contemplation, finding himself leaning against the bedside table and intently looking down at the creature. And then he realized that the cat sitting opposite him was the one holding all the cards.

He sighed in resignation and climbed into his bed, kicking off his shoes and burying himself under the thick, warm covers. He was ready to close his eyes and bid goodbye to the world of the waking, when a sudden weight pulled down at the end of the bed.

Andrew peeked his face out from under the covers, trying to get a look at what was going on. Lo and behold, the splotchy, sneaky little bastard was stalking across his very royal, very personal bed, paws sinking into covers and mattress alike. It even met his gaze.

It didn’t stop until it reached the pillow next to his, and flopped down on it in a tight ball, its tail resting right against Andrew’s cheek. Andrew glared at the ceiling. “I wasn’t kidding about that prosecution.”

The cat didn’t respond. When Andrew turned to look, pushing the tail away from his face, he saw that it was sound asleep.

Okay. _Fine_. Whatever.

He’ll kick it out in the morning.

***

Neil burst into Andrew’s chambers at the first crack of dawn, and promptly went crushing down to the floor.

Andrew blinked awake, yawning as he observed the redheaded mess sprawled on the floor. Not far from Neil’s feet lay the cat, spread out across like a whole square meter of the floor and snoring peacefully.

Neil swore quietly, pulling himself up to a sitting position before glancing back at the menace contaminating Andrew’s carpet. “When did you get a cat?”

“Last night,” Andrew said. Neil narrowed baffled eyes at him, before shaking his head and climbing up to his feet. “I need your help catching a squirrel.”

“You need my help with what,” Andrew said, yawning at the end again. What time even was it?

“A squirrel stole my wheat,” Neil said.

Andrew blinked at him. “A squirrel stole your wheat,” he faintly echoed.

Neil nodded. Andrew fell back against the cushions and pulled the covers over his head, turning to his side. “I’m sleeping. Go away.”

“Andrew, it’s a matter of life and death!” Neil said, his footsteps loud and clear as he approached the bed. Next thing Andrew knew, his voice was almost right in his ear. He didn’t react, though, when Neil continued. “Dan will kill me.”

“Beg her forgiveness,” Andrew mumbled.

“Oh, she already _gave_ me forgiveness,” Neil vehemently said. “I’m not allowed to mess up again after the whole fire in the pharmacy thing. She will skin me alive if she discovers I lost all of our wheat.”

“ _All_ of it?”

There was a pause. “I salvaged, like, a kilogram,” Neil finally said. “But you can’t feed an entire castle with one kilogram of wheat.”

“Bake ‘em cakes or something, then.”

“Andrew.” He could practically hear Neil’s pout. “Help me catch the squirrel.”

Andrew finally gave, and turned to lie on his back, lowering the covers from his face to glare at Neil. Neil was crouching next to the edge of the bed, elbows perched against it, pouting at him as predetermined. “Do explain, Junkie, how the hell a squirrel could single-handedly steal _all_ of your wheat. I do assume that your overreaction means there was a lot of it.”

“So much,” Neil sighed. He dropped his head. “I’ve no clue, Andrew. But there’s one thing I know for sure.”

Andrew waited for Neil to complete his dramatic pause, looking back impassively as that lifted his eyes back to him. “It was premeditated.”

Andrew closed his eyes and pulled the covers over his head again. “Was it the squirrel from the greenhouse?”

“It might be,” Neil said. “We can’t be sure until we catch it.”

“Until you catch it, you mean.”

“You heard what I said.”

Andrew lowered the covers only enough for his eyes to peek through. His hair must’ve been one hell of a mess by now. “It’s your mess. Fix it yourself.”

“Andrew,” Neil dramatically said, leaning back slightly. “Once we’re married, all of our problems will conjoin.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Andrew flatly said.

“But it’s true,” Neil replied. “You get my point, don’t you? Once we’re legally connected for all of eternity, we’ll have to share each other’s problems.” He paused. “I should write that in my vows.”

“Fine, I’ll catch your damn squirrel,” Andrew snapped, throwing the covers off of him at once. Neil shifted slightly to avoid getting hit in the face, but otherwise looked ecstatic, his whole face lighting up. Andrew was torn between wanting to punch him or kiss him.

Eh, he’ll decide later. For now, he had a squirrel to catch.

***

Andrew left out a bowl of milk and another bowl of chicken leftovers he had in his room, as well as a pile of books within reach, just in case the cat got bored. Then he banished Neil from his chambers and locked the intricate lock-system he’s had installed — which, by the way, shouldn’t have been opened as quickly as Neil’s opened it — and they set out to catch the squirrel thief.

Right now, they were standing atop the small hill Neil had been ambushed on, and looked down below. Except for a few sole wheat-strands, the rest was gone. Even the sacks were nowhere to be seen.

Neil relayed to him, step by step, the tragedy that has befallen him, up until when he left the crime scene to go get a cart from the greenhouse to collect the wheat.

“But when I came back,” he concluded, “it was all gone.”

“And you sure the squirrel did it?” Andrew skeptically asked. Neil nodded.

Andrew surveyed the crime scene, until his gaze landed on the tree halfway up the hill. Neil’s mentioned the squirrel had momentarily sought refuged up there, but hadn’t lingered; however, now that Andrew was looking closely, he noticed that the tree was trembling.

He descended toward the tree and looked up at the branches. There was something shadowy and fluffy-looking up there. Once Neil joined him, looking up as well, the tree ceased its trembling.

“I highly doubt it managed to get all the wheat up there,” Neil told Andrew. Andrew leveled him a _look_ , before turning back to the branches.

A low, intimidating growl emanated from between them.

“I think your squirrel might not be a squirrel after all,” Andrew said. He looked around, before Neil caught his gaze, and Andrew tilted his head. “You think you could climb up there?”

“Yeah, sure,” Neil said, looking up at the branches. “But I’m warning you — the squirrel might be out to get me.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Andrew dryly said. Neil made a face at him and climbed up the tree.

“Andrew, you wouldn’t believe this!” he said once his destination was reached. His voice was slightly muffled by the leaves, but his excitement was clear. Then his figure slowly came back into view as Neil climbed down, supporting a fluffy, gray cat.

A cat that looked royally pissed.

“It’s a cat!” Neil exclaimed, jumping down to solid ground. He held the cat out to Andrew, as if offering it. “I recognize his tail.”

“Congratulation, you are officially a complete fucking moron,” Andrew said, crossing his arms and leaning against the tree, now that it was growling-and-trembling-free. Neil pulled the cat away, giving Andrew a disapproving look.

“Don’t talk like that in front of the children.”

“You were ready to prosecute that child of yours a minute ago,” Andrew drawled. “To throw it in the dungeons. Leave it to the mercy of the rats.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Neil said. “It’s probably just a misunderstanding.” He looked down at the cat, which glared up at him with a ferocity almost rivaling Andrew’s on bad days. “King Fluffkins will never do something like that.”

Both Andrew and the cat looked like they absolutely disagreed; moreover, the cat seemed to have been deeply offended.

“You can’t name it King Fluffkins,” Andrew finally said. The cat growled at Neil, trying to claw at his shirt. Neil only smiled and slightly distanced the cat from himself, lifting up his gaze to Andrew.

“But it suits him so well,” he said. And that kind of innocent tone, with the pleading kind of innocent look in his eyes, as well as the almost childish excitement in his features, all led Andrew to sigh.

“Besides,” Neil added, “your cat needs company.”

“It’s not my—“ Andrew started, but then cut himself off. Neil and King Fluffkins — Andrew will fight Neil over that name, but all in due time — looked at him all sad and gloomy. Even though the cat couldn’t have _possibly_ understood what they were talking about. “Fine. Okay. _Fine_. But you’re not naming the other one.”

Neil saluted him, nodding resolutely. Then a sharp, dazzling smile split his face. “I’m sure they’ll get along splendidly.”

***

Matt and Dan looked from where they were having a picnic at Andrew and Neil, who were sitting on the grass a safe distance away and seemed to be trying to get two cats, who by all accounts seemed to despise each other, to talk to each other.

“What are they doing?” Matt wondered out loud.

Dan took a bite out of her sandwich. “Maybe it’s a part of their wedding preparations. Or maybe they’re just bonding.”

Matt leaned back against the plaid, red-and-white blanket, and hummed. And then he suddenly remembered something. “By the way, Dan, I left all of the wheat in the pharmacy. Somebody just left it all unattended outside a greenhouse, so I took care of it.”

Dan nodded absentmindedly. “Thanks.”

And they watched as one cat lunged at the other, and Neil and Andrew both started yelling and trying to separate them.

Matt sighed and bit into an apple. “They’ll make good cat-parents, don’t you think?”

Dan watched as Neil held the gray, fluffy cat away from the tortoiseshell and expressively chided it. “Yeah, I think they will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed the chapter <3


	23. Chapter 23

Aaron was worried.

Half an hour ago, he’d been supervising along with Katelyn the arrangement of the ballroom they have decided to get married in. Amid the drills and the candles, a terrified messenger had shown up, carrying a message from Andrew.

The message had been simple — asking him to come to Andrew’s chambers, because he had important news to disclose.

You see, Andrew’s never done that before. He’s never so much as touched a pigeon, rarely told Aaron things, and never — and by that Aaron meant _never_ — asked him to come into his chambers.

The last time Aaron’s done that was fresh in his mind. Now, pacing outside of Andrew’s door, he had to resist the urge to wring his hands.

His indecision was terminated by Neil pulling the door wide open and looking at him disapprovingly. Aaron paled. So it involved Neil. “We can hear you all the way from inside, you know.”

Aaron stared him down as much as he could, being slightly shorter than him, but begrudgingly followed when Neil went back inside. He wondered what this was about. Were Neil and Andrew getting a divorce? But then again, they haven’t even gotten married yet. And Aaron didn’t know what else it could be. It’s not like they could have children.

“Andrew called you here to meet our children,” Neil declared. Aaron stumbled over his own feet.

He was about to start yelling when he suddenly saw Andrew, sitting on a chair behind a table and looking right at him. “Actually, I called him here to tell him he's being demoted.”

Aaron’s eyes darted between the two of them, shock turning into confusion. “It doesn’t sound like you’re talking about anything even _remotely_ similar.”

“Sit down,” Andrew blankly said, gesturing at the chair opposite him way too ominously for Aaron’s liking. Aaron complied, looking at his brother in suspicion. He could still see Neil in his periphery, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Andrew lifted a tortoiseshell cat onto the table. The cat slammed its paws down ungracefully and meowed, instantly trying to go back down — but Andrew turned it back around so that it would face Aaron.

Aaron and the cat stared each other down for a few moments before Andrew said, “this is our eldest, Sir Fat Cat McCatterson.”

Aaron blinked at the cat. “Your eldest.”

Andrew and Neil both nodded. “Me and Andrew thought it was time to expand the family,” Neil gravely said. He then turned around, walked into an adjoining room, the door of which had been previously shut, and closed it again behind him. Aaron heard hissing and Neil’s chiding voice saying something he couldn’t catch, before he emerged back into the main room.

He was holding another cat, fluffy and gray and livid. It meowled and thrust its paws around and about, but Neil still looked at it with a stupid, loving expression on his face. He sat down on a chair next to Andrew and put the cat on the table, not letting go his hold on it lest it bolted.

Or ate the other cat. The cats glared at each other, the fluffy gray one growling in a low voice.

“And this is King Fluffkins,” Andrew said, gesturing at the cat. Aaron lifted alarmed eyes to him. “And he shall one day rule in your stead.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Sir shall be his trusted right paw,” Neil supplied. “They’ll rule the kingdom of Clarines with a strict but kind claw.”

“Unless Sir will assassinate King,” Andrew said, turning to Neil. Neil gave him a doubtful look.

“They’re acclimating,” he said, and smiled down at King Fluffkins. “They’ll be inseparable in a month. They disguise their love with aggression.” Neil then looked back up at Andrew, his stupid face radiating even _more_ admiration. Aaron wanted to leave, but he couldn’t very well just do that, could he? “Like you.”

“I’ll throw you off a bridge,” Andrew flatly responded, making Neil’s smile widen further. Neil turned to Aaron.

“See? Just like him,” he said, as if Aaron has been participating in the conversation. He wasn’t. He didn’t want to take part in this conversation. He was so fucking confused. “And since they’re our only heirs and children—“ Andrew sighed— “Me and Andrew have decided that you would be our perfect choice for a godfather. If you’d… uh, if you’d like.”

“A godfather,” Aaron echoed. Neil nodded enthusiastically, still holding the cat as if it were Simba or something.

“Of our only, beloved children,” he supplied.

Aaron looked to Andrew, who looked back completely seriously. Was this a joke? Was Andrew capable of making joke of this caliber? Of making jokes _at all_? Or was this some kind of a fever dream?

“Let me get this straight,” he finally said, looking between the two boys and their two cats. “You called me here out of my wedding preparations to make me the godfather of your _cats_.”

Neil nodded enthusiastically. Andrew’s heavy gaze didn’t waver. Damn, it was kind of creepy, how stoic he could look. Aaron looked around him, as if he could find the answers he was seeking in the walls; he scratched the back of his neck, blinked a few times at empty space, and let his attention fall back to the cats. They were both now sitting perfectly civil and looking up at him with big, wide, cute cat-eyes, as if they were anticipating his response.

They couldn’t hear his thoughts, could they? They shouldn’t even be able to understand what was going on. How could they understand what was going on when even _he_ couldn’t?

“Where did you even get them from?” he settled on asking.

Pointing at the tortoiseshell, Neil said, “Sir climbed into Andrew’s chambers in the middle of the night.” Before Aaron could ask how that was even possible, considering the hight of the floor, Neil patted the fluffy cat’s head. The cat growled, but didn’t otherwise move. “And King stole my wheat.”

“You know what, forget I asked,” Aaron said, deciding to say, _fuck it all_ to the universe and just… you know, accept his fate, like a crown-prince busy with organizing the most important day of his life was ought to do. “Fine. I’ll be your cats’ godfather.”

Neil beamed. Andrew gave him a single, curt nod. The cats both looked at him all happily with their big, wide, cute cat-eyes, the lights of hope, delight and everlasting trust reflecting in their colorful irises. Then they turned on each other and started brawling.

Neil immediately grabbed King and stood up, walking away from the table. “No! Bad King. Don’t take example from those two idiots,” he berated, gesturing his head back and Andrew and Aaron. The twins exchanged glances. “You need to _love_ your brother, not resent and attack him all the time.”

“When have I ever resented and attacked Andrew,” Aaron flatly said. Andrew only shrugged, and started petting Sir.

“Take example from _me_ ,” Neil continued telling King, the sickeningly sweet sound of sunshine invading his voice. “I love all those who surround me.”

“You don’t even have a brother, Junkie,” Andrew told him.

“And you don’t even _like_ me,” Aaron added.

Neil made a face at them, before turning his attention back to King. “You’re back to time-out until you understand how to properly show your love. How can I ever let you command an entire kingdom like that, huh? We can’t have that.”

And he disappeared into the adjoining room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Aaron looked back to Andrew, who pulled out Pride and Prejudice from heavens knew where and started reading to Sir in a low voice, his reading glasses resting on the tip of his nose. Sir jumped from the table into his lap, seemingly getting comfortable.

Aaron looked contemplatively from where Neil has gone to and back to Andrew. Then, he decided to just let it all be, and got up.

After all, he had a wedding to plan.

***

_Later That Day_

“Pigeons,” Allison said.

Everybody’s expressions turned skeptical. Even Neil, from his position behind the small window, frowned. Allison raised her eyebrows reprovingly and tapped her pointer-stick against the board. “We’ll release hundreds of pigeons onto the aisle.”

“Doesn’t Andrew hate pigeons?” said Renee.

“I was there that day,” Allison dramatically said, as if she hadn’t heard her. She turned to the board and scribbled an imitation of a balcony, under which two stick figures stood; one of them had two lines of long hair. “Before Neil’s court-herbalist exam, when he accidentally received the love letter Aaron’s sent to Katelyn.”

Now everybody looked confused, but it didn’t deter Allison. “He believed it was from Andrew, to him; and I saw the very moment he realized there was something more going on between them.”

Andrew snorted from where he was holding Neil on his shoulders. “There’s no way you realized anything back then.”

“Was there anything back then?” Neil said, dropping his eyes to look down at him. Andrew looked away and faintly shrugged, a motion Neil felt rather than saw. He looked back into the secret-meeting supply-closet.

“The pigeon!” Allison exclaimed, raising her stick. “It’s a symbol that can represent their love better than anything else.”

“I somehow highly doubt that,” Matt said, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “If Andrew really does hate pigeons, it’s just going to ruin their wedding.”

“Do you hate pigeons?” Neil quietly asked Andrew.

“Yes,” Andrew replied. Neil looked back into the secret-meeting supply-closet and started waving his hands to garner Matt’s attention. By some turn of a miracle, Matt, and only Matt, noticed him. He started gaping, almost saying something, but Neil quickly gestured for him to keep quiet — before pointing at Allison and gesturing, very expressively, that this was a bad idea.

“You know,” Matt said, eyes falling back to the meeting he was a part of. “I’m actually completely sure it’ll ruin the wedding.”

“What? Why?” Allison innocently asked.

“I just remembered that Neil’s…“ he looked up to Neil, who lifted his arms in a _what can I do?_ gesture. “I just remembered that he’s allergic to pigeons.”

Neil facepalmed.

“He can’t be allergic to pigeons,” Allison skeptically said. “I told you guys — I was there when the Pigeon of Fate landed on his shoulder. He didn’t sneeze or anything.”

“He became allergic to pigeons super recently,” Matt fumbled to say. “He was bitten by a pigeon right after he got back from the rescue mission.”

“Really?” said Dan, her voice worried. “Is he okay?”

Matt shrugged. “For the most part, yeah. But it made him severely allergic to pigeons.”

Neil let out a sigh. Now he would have to sneeze every time a pigeon came near him. He wasn’t even sure he could sneeze on command; swallowing sneezes, sure. He was a master of that. When he’d been on the run from his father, it had sometimes been the line between escaping or getting caught; but summoning a sneeze?

That was an uncharted territory for him.

“I should add that to his medical records,” Dan absentmindedly said, still looking worried. Then her face turned contemplative. “I wonder exactly what part of the pigeon causes the allergic reaction.”

“I don’t,” Kevin said. “So no pigeons. It was an awful idea, anyway.” Allison gave him a sour look. “I have a better idea.”

“Pray tell,” she flatly said.

Kevin cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Plants.”

“Ohh,” Neil said.

“No,” Andrew replied.

“Katelyn’s already on the flowers,” said Dan from inside the secret-meeting supply-closet. “She’s the best florist out of all of us, so I think we should leave it to her.”

“No, no, in addition to the flowers,” Kevin said. “ _Plants._ Rosemary decorations. Cacti. A plant-themed wedding.”

“Ohhhh,” Neil said.

“No,” Andrew said again. Neil dropped a sad look to him. “But that’s why we met.”  
  
“We met because of Riko,” Andrew said. “You’re not going to do a Riko-themed wedding, are you?”

“Over my dead body,” Neil said, crinkling his nose. A thoughtful look then invaded his features. “What about your glow-in-the-dark plants?”

“You want to get married in the dark?”

“It won’t be completely dark if we’d have tons of glow-in-the-dark plant decorations,” Neil said. Andrew was quiet for a long moment.

“We’ll see,” he finally said. Neil grinned triumphantly and turned his attention back to the secret-meeting supply-closet. Inside, Allison was vehemently waving her stick at Kevin, both of them yelling profanities at each other.

“Guys!” Dan yelled. “Guys! Calm down! Let’s let Neil and Andrew settle that question.”

Kevin and Allison both looked away sullenly. “Fine.”

“Let’s move on from decorations,” Dan said, her voice urging for peace. “Now for the guest list.”

“Well, that’s easy,” Neil said, lifting up one finger. “I don’t have any guests. I mean, except for these guys.” He looked down at Andrew. “Do you have any guests?”

“Two,” Andrew said. “King and Sir.”

“You’re not going to invite Aaron? Or your family? Or your extended family?”

“They are my extended family.”

Neil was quiet for a moment. “Fair enough.”

Inside, the secret-meeting supply-closet’s occupants seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion, minus the cats and plus Aaron and Katelyn, because they were, after all, family. The rest of the guests would be customary; a necessity of a prince getting married.

“I’ll get them off the list later,” Andrew muttered, sounding displeased.

“Or we could sit them all in a different hall,” said Neil. Andrew shrugged again, and that was that.

They remained there until nightfall, indirectly participating in the planning of their own wedding — which somehow seemed to start taking shape. At the end of the secret meeting, Matt waited until everybody left, before turning to the window and giving Neil a thumbs-up.

Neil grinned and returned the gesture.

***

_Meanwhile, in Andrew’s Chambers_

Aaron was lying on Andrew’s bed, petting King Fluffkins in a slow, rhythmic pattern and looking at Katelyn. She was sitting in a large leather armchair, Sir Fat Cat McCatterson playing with a yarn ball on her lap. There was a serene smile on her face that made Aaron think that maybe cat-sitting wasn’t all that bad.

Even though he was getting married in three days. He was supposed to be planning none-stop; instead, he was watching his new godchildren — godcats? — instead of Andrew and Neil, who were off doing who knew what.

“I’ve been thinking,” Katelyn said, pulling the yarn ball up and watching as Sir tried to leap to catch it. She lifted her eyes to Aaron. “Maybe we should release pigeons at our wedding.”

“Pigeons?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling faintly. “We used to send letters to each other for the longest time, remember? All secretly. It makes me happy inside, thinking about that time.”

Aaron nodded, mulling it over. “We could release them onto the aisle before you walk down it.”

“That would be great,” she said, leaning back against the armchair. She let out a dreamy sigh. “Just imagine it. Hundreds of pigeons pouring out of baskets, dropping flower petals on the crowd. Maybe we can train them to do a choreography.”

“I doubt we’ll manage.”

“Then we’ll just let them fly,” she said. She rubbed Sir behind the ears, and Sir purred, lying down and closing its eyes. “It’ll be so romantic.”

Aaron smiled at her. It really did sound romantic.

He distantly heard Neil’s and Andrew’s voices coming from outside, and scrambled to get off of the bed. _Finally_. Now he could go and do the important things in life.

First things first, he had a couple hundred pigeons to buy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I had to go back to my notes from August to find the layout for the first scene. Yep.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next time: Aaron and Katelyn's wedding.


	24. Chapter 24

Katelyn emerged onto the aisle, slowly walking toward Aaron. Her dress, white and long, brushed against the marble floor; its train stretched behind her like a silky waterfall, as elegant as her.

The guests were all standing in front of their seats, spread out amongst the dozen rows broken in the middle by the aisle. There were a lot of smiles, a couple of tears, and countless eyes full of adoration and soft warmth.

At the end of the aisle, on the elevated platform, stood the groom — Aaron Minyard, crown prince of Clarines, wearing a princely, formal wedding-suit. An orchestra hid in the shadows behind him, playing a refined violin composition that had everybody’s hearts fluttering.

It got Neil thinking about what kind of music he and Andrew were going to have at their wedding. But he stifled the thoughts; right now it was another couple’s moment, and such it shall remain. It was all very romantic. Neil’s never before been to a wedding of anyone he cared about, and it had him feeling nostalgic, somehow.

Katelyn was halfway across the aisle when the music pitched, and suddenly, hundreds of pigeons jumped into the air from the ceiling — a glance up there revealed the hidden baskets, which were hidden simply because no one’s bothered looking up — dropping petals and petals of pink roses in a flurry. Elated _ooh_ ’s and _ahh_ ’s took over the ballroom, and a wide smile broke on both the groom’s and bride’s faces. Neil would’ve shed a tear.

But then Dan jumped up, screaming, “NEIL’S ALLERGIC TO PIGEONS!”

Neil instantly paled, cowering under the sudden scrutiny of three-or-so-hundred people. What was he supposed to do? He hasn’t had yet time to practice his mock-allergic reactions!

“Sneeze,” Andrew whispered in his ear, leaning in. Neil turned a bewildered gaze to him.

“I can’t sneeze on command,” he hissed.

“Then you better learn, quick,” replied Andrew. “Because if Allison finds out you’re not allergic, this,” he gestured at the pigeons around them, “will be us in two weeks.”

Neil looked up, gaze skipping from Katelyn to Aaron.

He scrunched up his face and nose, willing a sneeze to come forth. Yeah, yeah, he was starting to feel it, building up in the crook of his nose — and soon, it reached the point of no return. He had about twenty seconds before the sneeze would encompass all. Seventeen seconds. Sixteen seconds. Fifteen seconds…

Neil, as you may have gathered by now, was an especially lucky person. And so, once the countdown reached three, two, one — the air pressure suddenly dropped, and right as the sneeze broke out of him in an impressive “ _ACHOO!”_ , the capillaries in his nose exploded.

Somebody screamed. As his hands shot up to his face to stop the blood pouring all over his face and shirt, Neil caught the precious, rare sight of Andrew cracking a raw smile, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and turning away, shoulders trembling.

“NEIL’S DYING!” screamed Dan and Allison in unison. Half the medical team crowded him in an instant, while the to-be-married couple stared in horror at what they’ve allowed to take place. The guests just stood there without having any clue what to do. What was one to do when somebody was dying in a wedding, courtesy of a pigeon allergy?

Neil sneezed again, this time unwillingly, and the blood-pour doubled. His nice shirt was absolutely ruined. He was getting lightheaded as Dan and Allison ushered him away from the row toward the ballroom’s entrance; a pigeon flew at them, and both Allison and Dan screamed at it and rapidly moved Neil away from it. The jostle brought forth a third sneeze, and Neil, helpless to the whims of fate, sneezed once again.

“Heaven help us all,” somebody muttered from a nearby seat, hand covering their mouth. Neil glanced back to see a trail of bloody footprints following them. He also saw Andrew, bracing a hand against the wall at the end of the row, his other hand covering his mouth as his whole body trembled uncontrollably.

Neil scowled. What kind of person _laughed_ when their significant other was going through something like this?

“Neil, are you okay?” Katelyn asked as they passed by her, her voice terrified. Neil smiled at her, only belatedly realizing that her horrified expression was probably because he was covered in his own blood. He stopped smiling and instead gave her a thumbs-up.

“Just pea-pea-pea _CHY—“_

Katelyn screamed, jumping away from him like he was spitting fire at her. By some turn of a miracle, her perfectly white, beautiful dress didn’t get even one drop of blood on it; Dan and Allison shoved him away, blabbering apologies as they got him and his overflowing blood as far as possible from the beautiful bride.

“Katelyn, I’m so sorry—“

“It’s my fault!” she cried out. “It was my idea! Now I almost got you _killed_!”

There was a burst of laughter that suspiciously sounded to Neil like it was coming from the wall Andrew was supporting himself against. “Katelyn, I’m fine—“

“I’ve just about HAD it with your FINES!” Allison screamed at him. They’ve reached the ballroom’s entrance at long last. “First, you get _stabbed_! And now _this_ —“

“Guys, I swear I’m fine, I’m not—“

“Matt told us about your pigeon allergy, so don’t ever _dare_ try and deny it,” snapped Dan, ushering him into the corridor. Allison followed, cursing colorfully.

The massive double-doors slammed shut behind them with a heavy, echoing _thud._

_***_

_Fifteen Minutes and a Shirt-Change Later_

Katelyn emerged onto the aisle, slowly walking toward Aaron. Her dress, white and long, brushed against the marble floor, spotted with rose-petals and pigeon-feathers; its train stretched behind her like a silky waterfall, as elegant as her.

The guests were all standing in front of their seats, spread out amongst the dozen rows broken in the middle by the aisle. There were a lot of slightly hesitant, crooked smiles, a couple of tears (or were they blood stains?), and countless eyes full of adoration and soft warmth.

Neil, his hair ruffled but his shirt new and clean, stood back in front of his seat, smiling thinly at the passing bride. He was afraid smiling too wide would restart his nose-bleed. Katelyn smiled back at him, full of relief, before averting her attention back ahead.

At the end of the aisle, on the elevated platform, stood the groom — Aaron Minyard, crown prince of Clarines, wearing a princely, formal wedding-suit. A few pigeon-feathers were stuck in his hair. An orchestra hid in the shadows behind him, playing a refined violin composition that didn’t have people’s hearts fluttering quite as much as before.

But it was all still very romantic.

Katelyn reached the platform without mishap, elegantly stepping onto it and standing in front of Aaron. A man stood slightly behind them, opening a book and clearing his throat.

“Do you, Aaron Minyard, take Katelyn to be your wife?”

Aaron grinned at his very-soon-to-be-wife. “I do.”

“Do you, Katelyn, take Aaron Minyard to be your husband?”

Katelyn shyly smiled at her very-soon-to-be-husband. “I do.”

Neil couldn’t get the grin off his face as they exchanged vows. He should be thinking of his own vows, too, shouldn’t he? Soon, he would be in their place on the platform.

“You may kiss your wife,” the man told Aaron. Aaron didn’t waste time pulling Katelyn into a kiss, and the ballroom erupted into clapping and cheers.

Neil’s eye caught Andrew’s. They looked at each other for a long moment, undoubtedly thinking of the same thing, before they both averted their gazes back to the newly-wed couple.

***

Neil stood up with his champagne glass in his hand, and a glass- _glink_ from Katelyn had the ballroom’s mostly-drunk occupants falling silent to look at him. Neil cleared his throat, himself not very drunk — and by that he meant, he hasn’t been drinking at all the entire night — and began his toast-speech.

“We’ve all known Aaron and Katelyn for a long time,” he said. “In the time that I’ve known them, they’ve become like family to me. Of course, I hated Aaron’s guts at first—“ there were a few of drunken _boo_ ’s— “but he’s come around, so I’ve come around, too. I fondly remember my first meeting with Katelyn.” Wherein she’d admitted to shooting at him with an arrow at the request of none-other than Aaron. “She’s a great girl, Aaron. You should be grateful to be spending the rest of your life with her.”

Aaron solemnly nodded at him.

“And you know,” Neil drawled, turning back to the vast room and its many occupants, “I can’t wait to be celebrating all kinda stuff with my new family. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter—“

Aaron frowned at him. “How does me marrying Katelyn make me related to _you_?”

“—and all kinds of other stuff,” Neil continued, gesturing around and about. “So, this toast is for my new family. Welcome to the fold, folks.”

Everybody cheered and toasted, downing their alcohol. Aaron confusedly did the same, a frown on his face, while Katelyn merrily laughed and toasted and drunk. Neil grinned at them and sat back down.

“How did I handle this?” he asked Andrew, who was leisurely sipping from his first glass of champagne.

“Eh,” Andrew said, leaning back in his seat and observing the merry couple as they laughed together at something. “Could be better. Three out of ten.”

Neil scowled at him, gingerly sipping his champagne. Drinking still kind of set him on edge, despite how accustomed he’s grown to the place and the people. Old habits died hard, he guessed. “You only like it when I suffer.”

Andrew swallowed a smile at the reminder. “At least nobody will get pigeons near us ever again.”

“I almost ruined their wedding,” Neil grumbled, slouching slightly. “I don’t know how that even happened.”

“You attract disasters,” said Andrew.

“Explains why you can’t get your eyes off me, huh.”

Andrew didn’t reply. Neil looked to him, frowning slightly, only to be met with Andrew’s contemplative gaze.

“Guess so,” Andrew eventually said, without much infliction. He sipped again from his champagne.

“I think I’m gonna go out for a bit of air,” Neil suddenly said, standing up. Andrew gave him a quizzical look, but Neil waved him off, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in five.”

It took him a few minutes to get from the ballroom outside. He walked out into the courtyard, taking in the late-night’s chilly air. He glanced back, then around him, and then set off toward one of nearest the greenhouses.

His mind was muddied with thoughts. Mainly, picturing his own wedding. He was getting married. To Andrew. He and Andrew were getting married in two weeks, and he’s just yesterday bought a black suit he knew Andrew was going to love, and in two weeks, they were getting married.

He stopped in his place, blinking at the ground. He was going to have to think about vows. But what kind of promise Andrew would want from him? What was he willing to promise?

A rustle in the air had him snapping up his gaze, sharply glancing around him. He was in a dark path, surrounded by trees, the nearest greenhouse not all that near. He circled himself, his skin suddenly chilling; something rustled behind him, and he whipped back his head, trying to spot its source.

Then somebody grabbed his mouth from behind. His yelp was stifled, and he tried to break free, before the familiar touch of a blade nicked his neck.

Then a low, sickly-sweet voice whispered right into his ear. “Hello, Junior.”

Neil’s eyes widened.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Lola continued. “Finally found you.”

Neil tried to tug free, but the hand on his mouth pressed harder, and he winced at the sharp tinge of pain at his throat. It was mild, but oh-so-familiar.

“Behave,” she said. “Or your prince back there? Yeah, I know about him. Won’t be having a good night.” She clicked her tongue. “Not a good night at all.”

Neil stilled, and he could practically hear her grin when she spoke up again. “You’ve built yourself a nice little life here, haven’t you, Junior?” Her voice got closer to his ear again. “But you must’ve known we’d catch up to you, eventually. Can’t let you go unpunished.”

It’s been years. _Years_. How come she just now thought to look for him?

“I admit,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “You’ve had us misled for a while there, hiding away in your nice little shop. But then you made our job so much easier by coming here, to the center of attention — engaged to a _prince_ , of all things.” She let out a chuckle. “Honestly, I thought your mother taught you better.”

Neil let out a noise that was somewhere between protest and indignation.

“I’ll bide my time,” she whispered in his ear, and he bristled at the undertone of promise in her voice. “But I want you to remember, Junior, that I’ve got you now.” Her hold waned, but she didn’t quite let go yet. “You should’ve run while you could.”

And then she, her blade and her hold were all gone. Neil whirled around, eyes wide and heart uncontrollably hammering, frantically searching the woods behind him — but there was nothing except dark and quiet, and the path was empty, save for him.

He looked around him a few more times, stumbling about like a drunk man. He couldn’t… he couldn’t stay here. He was putting Andrew in danger. She _knew_ about him; the whole damn kingdom did. But he couldn’t run away, could he? It wouldn’t keep Andrew any safer.

Would it keep _him_ safe, though?

He frantically shook his head to himself. What did it matter if he were safe, if Andrew weren’t?

“Neil?”

Neil startled so bad he jumped half a foot in the air, whirling around again. Andrew cocked an eyebrow at him. “Thought I was a ghost?”

“Something like that,” Neil muttered, looking back at where Lola’s disappeared to. “Let’s go back inside. I’ve had enough air.”

They walked back to the ballroom, where music played and people drunk and danced and laughed. Neil looked at it all, and a pain sharper than a blade nicked his heart. Because he’d let himself relax. He’d let himself feel safe, and he’d let himself grow attached, when he was never meant to stay in the first place.

Could he bring himself to once again leave everything behind?

But then Andrew pulled him into a dance, and the music slowed down, and his heart flattered in his chest. He inclined his head, avoiding Andrew’s eyes; he knew the answer, even if he weren’t willing to admit it.

He was done running the moment they’d met. Now, his fate was catching up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, jumping from comedy to tragedy: parkour.
> 
> Seriously, though, would you guys believe me if I said I didn't mean for it to turn out kinda depressing? It just came out like that :( Poor Neil.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading <3 I appreciate all kudos and comments very much :)


	25. Chapter 25

Neil was coming back.

That was what he kept telling himself. Throwing shirts and socks into his duffle bag, he kept telling himself that he was coming back. He’d go, he thought as he folded a pair of pants, and he’d get rid of the problem. Heck, he’d be back in time for the wedding. Andrew wouldn’t even notice he was missing.

He flopped down on the bed next to his duffle bag and stared into its messy contents, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t want to leave; it felt too much like running, a broken record. And he was done running. But he was also done waiting for everything to go wrong.

His plan was simple. He’d go, find Lola and end it once and for all. He was sick of his past creeping up behind him; his father and mother were long dead, and he wanted it all to remain buried. He wasn’t the person Lola was trying to grab a hold of anymore. That person had been buried right alongside his parents.

But he couldn’t very well just leave it be, either. Because Lola didn’t care about any of that. She wouldn’t stop. So he was going to take the problem out, right from its root.

He picked up another stray shirt, intending to fold it and throw it in his duffle, when someone opened the door to his room. He lifted his eyes, and promptly stilled. “Andrew.”

Andrew was standing at the threshold, eyes scouring the mess Neil’s made of his bedroom, before finally fixating on the open duffle bag and the shirt in Neil’s hands. “Neil.”

Neil put the shirt down on the bed. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Andrew leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You’re not leaving, then.”

Neil opened his mouth to answer, and promptly closed it. Something set in Andrew’s face, his mouth going into a hard line.

“Something came up,” Neil said, his voice sounding unconvincing even to his own ears. “I’ll come back.”

“You’ll come back,” Andrew flatly repeated. Neil found himself faltering, not quite sure how to answer.

Andrew studied him for a long moment, before he straightened, his features smoothing out into a perfectly blank mask. “Don’t bother coming back.”

“Andrew,” Neil said, standing up.

“Did you even plan on telling me you’re leaving?”

Neil bit the inside of his mouth. “It’s only for a couple of days.”

“No, then,” Andrew said, his voice completely apathetic. Combined with his blank expression, Neil found that for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t read him. He felt something crack inside him at the realization. “So your plan was to bail, without saying anything. I should’ve realized.” A sneer twisted at the corner of Andrew’s mouth — something dark and bitter that didn’t belong there, not in Neil’s eyes. “Once a runner, always a runner, huh?”

“It’s not like that,” Neil said, his voice sharp. “I’m not bailing on the wedding, Andrew. There’s just something I have to take care of. I’m done running. I’ve told you that.”

“Didn’t believe you then,” Andrew said. “Don’t believe you now.”

“What do you think me agreeing to marry you was?” Neil snapped, aimlessly gesturing his arms. “A lie? You think it was all a lie? I didn’t lie to you, Andrew. I’m not lying now, either.”

Andrew stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. He approached Neil until they were standing face to face, less than a foot’s distance separating them.

“Either stay,” he said, his voice low and harsh, “or don’t come back, Neil. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I can’t,” Neil replied. “You don’t understand, Andrew. I’m putting you in danger.”

Andrew pulled back. “I can protect myself.”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” Neil insisted. “And I can’t have you getting hurt. Not on my account.” He searched Andrew’s eyes. They were hard and dark, their hazel muted. They were familiar. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever had,” he admitted. “I don’t want to lose it.”

“Then stay,” Andrew said again. “Who are you scared of? I’ll protect you from them. They won’t touch you, I won’t let them.”

“No,” Neil said. “No, you’re not getting involved. I’ll take care of this. And I’ll come back, Andrew. I promise.” He halted, biting the inside of his cheek. “It’s something I should’ve finished a long time ago, anyway.”

At that moment, the door was kicked open — and a swarm of guards poured into the room, Jeremy at their head. He advanced toward them as the rest of the guards scattered around the room, opening drawers and turning pillows; Neil instinctively tried stepping back, only for the back of his knees to meet the bed. He exchanged a startled look with Andrew, who stepped in front of him, hand going to the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, his voice rising above the hassle.

“I’m sorry, your Highness, but I suggest you step away,” Jeremy said, a pinched expression on his face. He looked to Neil, who stood frozen in his place, his blood pounding in his temples. “Nathaniel Wesninski, you’re arrested for treason of the Clarinesian throne.”

Neil felt all his blood draining from his face. Andrew turned to him, his grip on the sword’s hilt faltering; there was inquiry in there, a question Neil couldn’t answer. He barely felt it when Jeremy grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around; heard the cuffs clicking around his wrists, but his hands were numb.

The world seemed to rush around him as Jeremy led him out of his room. The only thing Neil registered was the expression on Andrew’s face, something horribly uncertain. _Nathaniel Wesninski, Nathaniel Wesninski; you’re dead._

 _And yet here I am_ , he thought as he was being led away, the expression on Andrew’s face haunting him as he went. Here he was, being resurrected.

***

It must’ve been hours before anybody’s bothered giving him an explanation.

He sat at the corner of the cell they’ve put him in, back pressed against the cold brick wall, knees pulled up to his chest with his arms leaning against them. He stared at the filthy ceiling, thoughts going in circles in his head.

He thought mainly about Andrew, and how he somehow managed to ruin everything for himself in a single night. He wasn’t even sure how that happened, how the royal guard had caught wind of who he really was. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t guilty of his charges; he was a loose end, and nobody ever liked loose ends.

He wanted Andrew to come see him, because maybe then he’d have the chance to explain. But when somebody came, Neil found himself staring back at Kevin, of all people.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said, after they looked at each other for a few long seconds.

“For what?”

Kevin scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. For knowing. And not doing anything to help you.”

“Kevin, you’ve done plenty,” Neil said, sinking slightly against the wall. “You helped me open up shop, back in Tanbarun. Remember?”

“It feels like a lifetime ago,” Kevin said, giving him an awkward smile. It fell away quickly. “I honestly don’t understand why they’re charging you with treason. You haven’t done anything.”

“They probably think I’m somehow carrying on my father’s fucked up legacy,” Neil said, a detached quality to his voice. “He didn’t pay for his crimes, but somebody has to. I guess.”

“But you aren’t your father,” Kevin insisted.

“They don’t seem to share your opinion,” Neil replied, gesturing at nothing in particular. He then sighed. “Honestly, it’s probably Lola’s doing.”

Kevin’s gaze narrowed. “Whose?”

Right. Not everybody knew his childhood demons. “Lola,” he said. “Nathan’s lackey. She was there when Stuart killed him.” And had tried helping his father murder _him_ , but Neil didn’t want to talk about it. “She’s been after me ever since.”

“You haven’t told me that,” Kevin said, managing to somehow sound petulant.

“It wasn’t important,” he said. If trouble were ever to stir up, his plan had always been to pack up and leave. But by the time he’d realized it was no longer an option — well, that had been far too late, hadn’t it?

“Neil,” Kevin said, attracting Neil’s attention once again. “You realize you’re not staying here, right? This is all a huge misunderstanding. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“And then what?” Neil said. “Andrew hates me.”

Kevin frowned. “I don’t think so.”

Neil pulled up his head against the wall, gaze flicking up. “Where is he, then?”

“Currently, under house arrest,” Kevin said. Neil blinked. “He tried to stab Jeremy after he put you in here, so he’s being locked in his room until he’s calmed down.”

“He probably got out through the balcony,” Neil absently said, taking a smidge bit of satisfaction from the way Kevin’s paled. At that moment, the door to the dungeons opened, closed, and a quiet sound of footsteps approached Neil’s cell.

Neil couldn’t help the grin that climbed up to his face.

“Thank you for entertaining the prisoner,” Andrew blandly said. “You’re dismissed. Now go away.”

“You can’t boss me around like that, you know,” Kevin objected. “I’m not a Clarinesian subject. I’m from the Tanbarunian court; I’d like to see you bossing _them_ around—“

“Been there, done that. Have’t you heard? Riko’s my lapdog now,” Andrew said, dismissively waving a hand about. His gaze landed on Neil, latching onto his faint smile.

Kevin grumbled something incomprehensible and walked away. When he passed Andrew he said, “you know, if they discover you slipped your house arrest, you’re going to be in trouble.”

“Oh, God forbid they lock me in my room again,” Andrew said. Neil snorted, not taking his eyes off of him. He heard the door to the dungeons creak open, then slam shut as Kevin left.

Now, it was only Andrew and him.

“If there was one thing I didn’t think you would do,” Andrew said, sounding bored, “it was get arrested for treason.”

“Gotta cross off my bingo card somehow.”

“They won’t pardon you,” Andrew suddenly said, looking right at him. Neil’s smile faded away. “They have evidence you’ve been undermining them, ever since you came here.”

“Andrew, I haven’t.”

“I know,” Andrew said. Neil relaxed, relief washing over him; but then Andrew spoke again. “They found evidence tying you back to your father’s operation, or whatever’s left of it. They’ve got evidence connecting you to casualties and damages, and they don’t want to risk it.”

“So what, I’m looking at life in prison?”

Andrew looked at him, his face blank, his eyes devoid of emotion. So much so that they almost looked vulnerable. But that was nonsense. Andrew didn’t ever look vulnerable.

Neil’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened in his place, his muscles suddenly itching. Badly. “What are you saying?”

Andrew’s voice was impassive. “Generally, they get rid of these kinds of risks.”

“That bitch,” Neil hissed, head hitting the wall. “She couldn’t just kill me and be done with it, could she? What about you, huh? They’re making you an accomplice?”

“You knew this was going to happen,” Andrew flatly said, ignoring his question. “That’s why you were leaving.”

“One of my father’s accomplices approached me,” Neil admitted. “But no, I didn’t think she was going to have me _arrested_. It’s not her style. Her style is— fuck, I don’t know, more discreet. I fucking _guess_.” Neil looked back to Andrew, fire in his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. Are they making you an accomplice?”

“No,” Andrew said.

Neil bit the inside of his cheek. That was good. That was the only good thing in this whole situation; but wasn’t that the most important thing?

He’s allowed himself to fantasize, before. He realized that now. It was all a nice, big, cozy dream, in which he and Andrew got to get married and live a happily ever after, his past buried six feet under. But that was all it was: a fantasy. He wasn’t made for this kind of life, was he? He’d been born a Wesninski; he would’ve died one, too, years ago, in his father’s basement.

It only made sense that it would come back to haunt him. Shake him back into reality. He didn’t fit into normal life; didn’t know how to do anything except run.

He’s learned to live and to love, he has. Well, it was over now.

But when he looked up to Andrew, he saw him with a dagger in his hand. He sprung up to his feet, bewildered. “What are you doing?”

“Breaking you out of here.”

“Andrew, no—“ Neil darted to the bars, grabbing Andrew’s dagger as that put it to the bolt. He stifled a hiss when it cut his palm, and Andrew’s hold instantly slackened, allowing him to wrestle it away from him. “Andrew, what do you think I’m gonna have to do if you break me out, huh?”

“Run away, like the little rabbit that you are,” Andrew snapped back.

“How many times do I have to tell you, before you start believing me?” Neil yelled. “I’m _done_ running. I’m sick of it. I’ve spent my whole life running, and it’s never gotten me anywhere. Never brought me anything but more running, and hurt and pain.”

“So you’re going to sit in a dark cell and wait until you die,” Andrew said.

“Fuck, if I have to,” Neil replied. That thought terrified him. But the thought of leaving left him feeling hollowed out; and that was so much worse. “If the royal guard doesn’t catch up to me, it’ll be Lola. One way or the other.” He’s learned it the hard way: there was no place far enough to run from the people chasing him. His biggest mistake was that he’d let himself forget.

And that wasn’t even the worst part about it.

“And I don’t want to abandon this,” he said, his voice quieter this time. Andrew looked at him, his eyes clear and observant; they were looking for something. For the lie, maybe. Well, he wasn’t going to find it. “I want to live in Clarines, and work as a herbalist. I want to marry you, and sleep in your bed and raise Sir and King with you. And I get that I can’t have that. But I can’t willingly walk away from it, either. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I’ll leave with you,” Andrew said, making to grab for the dagger. Neil threw it to the other side of the cell, where nobody but him could reach until they opened it.

“No,” he said. “I won’t let you live this kind of life, not for me. You have everything here.”

“It means nothing to me.”

Neil looked sadly at him. “That’s what you think.”

That was when a loud explosion sounded from somewhere outside. Alarms suddenly started blaring overhead, and they both lifted their heads in confusion.

Neil’s eyes snapped to the door of the dungeon when somebody kicked it open, and a familiar women walked in.

“Lola,” he said, his voice coming out frail. Andrew glanced at him only briefly, before drawing his sword in a swift motion and lunging at her without hesitation.

“I changed my mind, Junior,” Lola said, deflecting Andrew’s lunge with a sword that Neil hasn’t seen her draw. “I’m touched by your little heart-to-heart. Really something out of a love story.”

The realization starkly dawned on him. “Andrew, get out of here.”

“In your dreams,” Andrew gritted, fending off a jab at his direction. The swords clashed in a loud, metallic sound, but within a single movement, Lola had Andrew’s sword clattering to the ground. Another split second, and she had her sword pointed at Andrew’s throat.

Both Neil and Andrew froze, not taking their eyes off of her. She smiled a thin, sickly sweet smile, and tilted her head.

“I can work with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0
> 
> Thank you guys for reading. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Ahhh I'm so nervous for what's to come :0000


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys my file nearly deleted itself while I was in the middle of writing this chapter. The WHOLE file. The whole entire 210-page file (also, holy shit, when did that happen?). I almost had a heart attack.  
> And then my laptop just randomly duplicated it.  
> So I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, because it almost randomly PERISHED.
> 
> Warning for violence.

Jean sighed in exasperation as he climbed down the stairs to the dungeons. Andrew had disappeared from his chambers quickly after being locked in them, and Jeremy, on the king’s orders, had been told to find him instantly. Jeremy, having almost been stabbed by the guy, had thought sending Jean in his stead would lead to less bloodshed.

The first and obvious place to look was the dungeons, where Neil was currently being held. Neil’s secret was out — and in Jean’s opinion, everybody was overreacting. But he had no say in the matter, so he just did his job; he got to the bottom of the stairs and shoved open the door to the dungeons, only to promptly halt.

Neil’s cell was open, the lock lying broken on the ground. Neil was nowhere to be seen. Outside the cell, right by Jean’s feet, lied a sword.

The Clarines royal crest was painted on its hilt. That was when the realization struck him — it was Andrew’s sword, the one he always had strapped to his belt.

Jean did another quick survey of the dungeons, finding nothing else.

Considering the circumstances of Neil’s arrest, there was only one clear conclusion he could draw. Neil and Andrew were both gone; Andrew had been disarmed; there were signs of a struggle, and a known convict who was nowhere to be found.

He turned on his heel, coming back the way he’d come from. He’d have to alert Jeremy.

***

They were in some kind of a basement, that much Neil could gather.

It was dark. Darker than the last one. The air in it was stifling, a nauseating, metallic reek hanging on it; he had a guess at what those dark stains splotched on the walls and the ground were. He was sitting against one such wall, his hands tied behind his back. His jacket was gone, and in his thin, long-sleeved undershirt, the cold seeped into his back and down to his bones.

His eyes scoured the room, instantly falling on Andrew’s figure. He was sitting, tied and blindfolded, against the other wall, a few feet away from Neil; his posture was completely upright, tension bleeding out of every line of his body. Tension and quiet fury.

Lola slapped Neil’s face, and his eyes inadvertently averted to her. “Hey, Junior,” she said, voice low and mocking. “Look at me.”

“Let him go,” he seethed.

Lola climbed up to her feet, throwing aside the blindfold she’d just taken off of him. “But that’s just not fun, is it?”

Neil lurched forward. “Lola, I swear to _God_ —“

Lola grabbed his shoulder and punched him in the diaphragm, grinning as he spluttered. He collapsed back to his place against the wall, wincing as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

“Behave,” she told him. He glared up at her.

She smiled at him and turned around, walking over to Andrew. But when she crouched in front of him, reaching out to pull down his blindfold, Andrew headbutted her. “Get away from me, you bitch.”

Lola laughed — a high-pitched, crazy kinda sound, which reverberated in the small basement. “You’ve got spirit. I can see why Junior took a liking to you.”

“Shut up,” Neil and Andrew simultaneously said, both voices fuming. Lola turned entertained eyes between the two of them, before refocusing her attention of Andrew. She pulled the blindfold off of him in a swift motion; Andrew tried to bite her hand, but she snatched it out of the way.

“It’s cute when they struggle,” she said, glancing at Neil. If Neil weren’t still trying to figure out how breathing worked, he would’ve lunged at her.

“Don’t touch him,” he said instead, his voice slightly wheezy. “He has nothing to do with this. It’s me you want.”

“It’s you who I want for to _pay_ ,” she said. She tilted her head, examining Andrew contemplatively. “And here I have just the way.”

Andrew snarled at her.

“Don’t get me wrong, Junior,” she flippantly said. “I will kill you. Slowly, painfully, yadda-yadda. But first,” she caught Andrew’s gaze, and lowered her voice. “You think I could make Junior plead?”

Andrew stilled, going as as white as a sheet.

“Get the hell away from him!” Neil yelled, tugging at his bonds. Lola ignored him and lifted something that glinted in the dim light.

It was a dagger. A small, compact, familiar dagger; Neil startlingly realized it was the one Andrew had attempted to break him out with. The one he’d thrown to the other side of the cell.

“It’s of impeccable quality,” she told Andrew. Andrew glared at her. “Which I suppose is to be expected, belonging to a prince. I, myself, am more fond of swords.”

She shot Neil a smirk that had him halting. When he’d been little, still living with his father and with Lola lurking around like a leech, she’d tried teaching him to use a sword. He hadn’t wanted to learn, hadn’t wanted anything to do with either her or his father’s business. But what he’d wanted had never meant anything. She’d dueled with him, vicious and unforgiving, and he’d kept losing — until he’d started fighting back.

Needless to say, Neil didn’t like carrying swords around.

“But,” she continued, examining the dagger as if it were a diamond necklace, “sometimes I want to get personal. And swords aren’t personal. Don’t you agree, Junior?”

Neil bit his lip. Personal or not, they all cut down sharp.

What wouldn’t he have given to have his switchblade on him — but Jeremy had taken everything even remotely similar to a weapon before he’d locked him in the dungeons, so Neil didn’t even have a penny to save himself. His eyes caught Andrew’s. Maybe he—

Andrew gave him an even, meaningful look. Neil suddenly saw the faint way he shifted in his place. Of course! Andrew wouldn’t carry around just the one dagger, nor was he the kind of guy to wait around for a miracle. He was trying to free himself.

Which meant that _his_ job was to distract Lola while Andrew worked on his binds. Lucky for them, Neil’s specialty was mouthing off to his enemies.

“Go rot in hell,” he told Lola. “I bet you can’t even hold that dagger properly.”

Lola slowly turned to him, an eyebrow quirked. There was a quizzical sort of look on her face. “Do you, now?”

Neil nodded vehemently, glimpsing Andrew’s faint look of approval, and continued his piss-parade. “I’ve seen dogs who are better at one-on-one combat than you are. Your hands are so crooked you’d lose to an unconscious pigeon. Besides,” he sneered, “that’s not even a royal dagger. Andrew got it at a discount from a shady street-vendor, and half its the materials are fake and cheap. It’s basically plastic. It barely cuts anything. But of course you wouldn’t be able to tell.” He inhaled. “Because you suck so much.”

Lola was now fully facing him, face and body. “You want to test that theory out, Junior?” She approached him, a predatory grin on her face. Neil’s heart nearly missed a beat, despite the fact his plan was, for once, working. He couldn’t take his eyes off that blade.

She crouched in front of him, leaning in close. Andrew’s dagger brushed against his jaw. “Maybe I’ll cut off your tongue,” she mused. “That’ll shut you up. Or—“ her blade trailed higher, to his ear, brushing aside a lock of red hair. “Maybe I’ll start by cutting off your hair. A traitorous little boy like you shouldn’t carry your father’s colors.”

Neil’s eyes flicked to hers, seeing that dangerous, crazy edge etched in them. “Go right ahead,” he spat at her. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

“Although,” she said, disapprovingly clicking her tongue, “those eyes might be more discriminating than your hair. We’ll have to get rid of those, as well.”

The tip of the knife cut into his cheekbone, right by the base of his ear, and Neil hissed.

“Looks to me like it cuts just fine,” she said. She lazily dragged the blade in a straight line, reaching the edge of his eye. Neil tried pulling away, but it didn’t help him; she was too close, and he had nowhere to go.

But before she could do something irreversible, Andrew sprang from his place, his hands free and a dagger in his hand. He lunged at Lola, who only barely managed to evade the knife; it nicked her neck, right along the line of her jaw, making her yelp.

They spun, and suddenly Andrew was standing in front of Neil, ready to strike. Lola stepped away, cautious as she held a hand to the cut on her neck. Her other hand, clutching the knife, was outstretched toward Andrew.

“Don’t touch him,” Andrew snarled at her, not moving from his protective place over Neil. “I’ll kill you.”

Lola nodded. “Yes, yes, that’s a wonderful attitude. But you see, Your _Highness_ ,” her voice turned mocking, “Junior can’t escape his fate. So why don’t you step aside, mm? Let me do my job.”

“Over my dead body,” Andrew replied.

“If you insist,” she said, and lunged.

Andrew deflected her strike, pushing her away from Neil. Neil straightened in alarm, pulling at his binds, but they weren’t any looser than they’d been before. He could only watch as Andrew attacked, and Lola deflected and cut through his sleeve. “Andrew—“

“Shut up, Neil,” Andrew gritted out, deflecting another of Lola’s strikes and completely ignoring his cut. “I know what I’m—“

He ducked to evade a jab, and Lola grabbed his shoulder and kneed him in the stomach. Andrew gasped, his knife clattering from his grasp to the ground; Lola sneered, whirled around so that she was behind Andrew and facing Neil, and wrapped an arm around Andrew’s throat.

“Junior,” she lightly said, her knife tilting in her other hand. Neil paled. Andrew pulled at Lola’s hold, but stopped when she put the tip of the knife over his heart. Neil could hear Andrew’s quiet wheezing.

“Lola, don’t,” he said. Even he could hear the panic he unsuccessfully tried to keep away from his voice.

She tilted her head contemplatively. “I don’t know, Junior,” she said. “How far are you willing to go for him, hmm?”

“Kill me instead,” Neil instantly said. Andrew’s eyes turned murderous, landing at him. Neil defiantly looked back, unwavering; then he lifted his eyes to Lola. “Let him go, and you can have me. I won’t fight. I won’t try to run.”

Andrew tried to pull against Lola’s hold, but she just pressed harder against his throat. Andrew’s attention jumped to the ceiling, his stance wavering.

“Let him go,” Neil said again, his voice increasingly urgent. “And you can do whatever the fuck you want to do to me. I won’t struggle. I promise,” he spat out. “Just let him go.”

Andrew wheezed, the ferocity clear despite his lack of coherent words.

Lola smiled.

“Please, Lola,” Neil said. “Don’t hurt him.”

Andrew jammed an elbow into Lola’s gut, struggling to pull himself free from her hold. The dagger cut through his shirt when he did, Lola’s hold losing control; he spun around, wrangled the dagger out of her hand and buried it between her ribs.

Lola let out a choked-out gasp, both hands going to the hilt of the dagger. And then her legs gave out, and she landed on the ground with a heavy _thud_.

A sudden silence fell on the room as both of them stared at her body with wide eyes.

Then Andrew whirled around, searching the ground for his other dagger. When he found it, he approached Neil, kneeling before him to cut his binds. Once Neil was free, Andrew tucked the dagger into his armband and took a hold of Neil’s face.

Neil halted, baffled. “Andrew?”

Andrew leaned in, and Neil suddenly remembered the cut on his face. “Andrew, I’m fine,” he said, his voice unsteady. Then he caught sight of blood sticking to Andrew’s shirt. “You’re hurt.”

Andrew followed his gaze to his own chest, calmly regarding the shallow cut, before looking back up to Neil. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’ve been told,” Neil said.

“And a damn martyr,” Andrew said. “Next time you try to pull off something like that, I’ll kill you myself.”

“That sounds contradictive,” Neil said, frowning. Then his eyes turned serious. “I meant it, you know. Better me than you.”

“It really isn't,” Andrew said. He glanced around him before finding the exit — a wooden, rotten-looking door hidden in the shadows. He climbed to his feet and extended Neil a hand.

Neil took it and pulled himself up.

As they left the basement, he didn’t dare to look at Lola.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That went better than I expected! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading!! <3


	27. Chapter 27

Getting out of the basement, Andrew and Neil immediately ran into Jeremy and his small flock of royal guards.

They both halted as half a dozen swords were raised at them; Neil’s hands automatically went up, but Andrew shoved them back down.

“Don’t you fret, Your Highness!” exclaimed one of the guards, theatrically gesturing with his sword. “You are safe now! The traitor shall be taken into custody immediately!”

He and two other guards moved toward Neil, who stepped back, but Andrew stopped his movement again by bracing a hand against Neil’s back. “Neil didn’t kidnap me.”

“You must be confused!” decided the guard, still moving toward them. Andrew gave him a level look, grabbing Neil’s sleeve as that seemed to automatically try and retrieve back the way they’d come from.

“Neil and I have been kidnapped by Nathan Wesninski’s former right hand,” Andrew said. The guards all stopped their advance, and Jeremy perked in alarm.

“Are they—“

“She’s dead,” Andrew interrupted. Jeremy and the other guards’ eyes jumped to Neil before Andrew added, “I killed her.”

“We still have to take Neil into—“

“She fabricated the entire ordeal,” Andrew continued. “Neil is, and always has been, innocent. She’s the culprit. I would’ve let you take her in and execute her, but seems I've beaten you to the punch.”

“Her name’s Lola Malcolm,” Neil said, tugging his sleeve free of Andrew’s hold. He briefly glanced back, heavy eyes turning back to Jeremy. “Andrew’s right. It’s all her fault. I’ve never— I would never go down my father’s path.”

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed, thoughtfully looking between Neil and Andrew.

“Her body’s in there,” Andrew added, pointing at the door behind them. Jeremy gestured faintly, and three guards bypassed them to enter the basement.

A few beats passed before one of them called back, “she’s dead!”

Jeremy gave a curt nod and looked to Neil. “We’ll open an investigation. You’re a good guy, Neil. I believe you.”

“Thanks for bothering to ask him earlier,” Andrew dryly said, walking past Jeremy. “Come on, Junkie. Let’s go home.”

“But I—“

“Unless you have somewhere else you’d rather go,” Andrew added, glancing back at him. Neil opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed.

He followed Andrew. By the time they found themselves back at the castle, the sky was painted a new sunrise.

***

Neil made his way back to his room in a daze.

Or, at least, he tried to. Halfway there he ran into Dan and Allison — or, more accurately, they broke into a ran toward him the second they saw him from the other end of the corridor. Allison yelled something unintelligible and pulled Neil into a hug that knocked all the breath out of him. “You reckless idiot! I’ve aged twenty years because of you!”

Neil hesitantly hugged her back, his eyes almost popping out from how hard she was squeezing him. He patted her twice on the back. “Can’t— breathe—“

Allison released her hold, and Neil inhaled deeply as she stepped a single step away. “First, we find out you got arrested. And then we hear that you broke out, kidnapped Andrew and potentially murdered him! You’ve _got_ to tell us before you do shit like that!”

“I didn’t kidnap Andrew,” Neil said, rubbing his squashed arm. “Me and Andrew _got_ kidnapped.”

“ _Again_?” Dan exclaimed, her arms shooting up in disbelief. “Did I hallucinate telling you _not_ to get kidnapped again? Or did you just not hear me? Do I need to check your hearing, Neil?”

Neil smiled apologetically. “It was kinda unplanned.”

“Oh, in that case, go right ahead!” Dan exclaimed. Then she stepped forward and pulled Neil into her own hug. At least this one didn’t crush the life out of him. “We got so worried. We thought you died. _Again_. You’ve got to stop doing that.”

Neil blinked at the wall over Dan’s shoulder, before his gaze flicked down and all the fight left him. “I’m sorry.”

Dan ruffled his hair as she stepped away, giving him a comforting smile. “We’re glad you’re okay. And that you didn’t murder Andrew.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Allison said. Neil shrugged.

“He took off as soon as we got back,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. “Don’t know where he went.”

“He’s okay, then?” Dan asked.

Neil hesitated, his mind flashing back to the picture of Andrew at Lola’s mercy, a sword just over his heart. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, avoiding the girls’ worried gazes. “He’s fine.”

“How are _you_?” Allison asked. Neil shrugged.

“I’m also fine.”

“Did you have that cut cleaned?” Dan said, gesturing at Neil’s face. Neil’s hand went up to his cheek; once again, he completely forgot about it. He shook his head.

“Well then, we’ve got lives to save,” Dan gently said. She and Allison ushered him back outside, leading him to the pharmacy, where they had all their medical supplies.

They sat him down on a chair in the lab and Dan started cleaning his cut, asking him questions about how he was feeling, what kinds of pain he had, and where else did he get hurt. He replied by saying he was fine, nothing hurt, and he didn’t get hurt at all.

Dan gave him an even look. “Are you fine like you were fine last time?” Her brow creased. “I actually want to check how that’s been healing, too. Maybe we can take the stitches out.”

Neil quietly let her do her work, his mind a mess of incomprehensible thought. He couldn’t get that mental picture of Andrew out of his head; couldn’t help but thinking, _it’s my fault. It’s because of me he was there in the first place._

So he let Dan clean and stitch his new cut; took off his shirt at her command; sat there quietly as she started taking out the stitches from the stab wound. He didn’t even flinch, just stared into space, replaying again and again the previous night’s events in his head.

“Neil,” Dan said, and Neil looked up to her inquiringly. Her eyebrows were clenched in undisguised concern, and Neil realized she must’ve called his name a few times before he reacted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, pulling his shirt back on.

“You’ve had an intense night,” Dan gently said. “You know you don’t have to be okay, right?”

Neil shrugged. “But I am.”

Dan sighed. “Try to get some rest today,” she said. “We don’t want you passing out from exhaustion.”

He gave her a small smile. Now that she mentioned it, he did feel kind of tired. “Sure thing, doc.”

She patted his shoulder reassuringly, and Neil got up to leave. Allison gave him another quick hug before letting him go off on his own.

He went right back to his room, like he’d originally planned. He closed the door behind him, locked it, and slipped down to a crouch against it, his arms supporting his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing.

In, and out. In, and out. Everything was fine. He was fine. Andrew was fine. Nobody except for Lola has been seriously hurt. He should be celebrating; so why did he feel like the whole world was crumbling down around him?

“Neil.”

Neil let out a yelp and jerked upright, his shoulders colliding with the door behind him and his gaze wildly snapping around the room. It landed on a figure standing in the shadows, an outline of light around them.

Neil searched for his switchblade before remembering it wasn’t on him, instead getting into an offensive stance and trying to ignore his pounding shoulders. “Who are you?”

The figure stepped forward to reveal— Kevin?

Neil let out an exhale, his posture slumping. “What the actual _fuck_ , Kevin? How did you even get in here!”

Kevin frowned at him and approached. “Your door was locked, so I came in through your window.”

Neil fell into a brief stupor, eyes narrowing incomprehensibly. “ _Why_?”

“Because I need to talk to you,” Kevin said, as if that was a totally reasonable thing to do. He pulled a small scroll out of his pocket and extended it. “Thea told me to tell you that her wedding invitation got lost in the mail. Did you send her an invitation? I need you to write her a new invitation. I don’t remember the time you and Andrew are doing the wedding.”

Neil sank back to the floor against the door, spreading his legs out in front of him. Kevin dropped down into a cross-legged position, expectantly looking at Neil. Neil closed his eyes. “I don’t know if there still is a wedding, Kevin.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? It’s _your_ wedding.”

“It means I don’t fucking know,” Neil snapped, opening his eyes to glare at him. He was surprised to find Kevin looking at him with concern. Everybody was so _concerned_. “The wedding’s probably off. I don’t know. I’ll get out of your guys’ hair in a few days.”

Kevin looked taken aback. “Nobody wants you to leave, Neil. Did Andrew tell you something? Because if he did—“

“He didn’t say anything,” Neil cut him off. “He didn’t even look at me after… on our way back.” Level breaths. Level breaths. “He’s probably mad at me.”

Neil’s theory was that Andrew has seen what being around Neil meant, and now he was questioning their whole relationship. He’d be back tonight, or tomorrow, or at _some_ point, and tell Neil to go packing. Or, more probably, he would say nothing at all, and Neil would have to cut his losses.

Neil felt like he was some kind of a disease; the people he most cherished always seemed to get hurt because of him. His Mom. Andrew. He should leave, so long as Andrew was still breathing. Before something irreversible happened — because one day it will, and Neil would be left with no one to blame but himself.

He wanted to stay, he wanted it so bad. But what he wanted didn’t matter, not if it were bound to end with a disaster; and, more importantly, not if Andrew didn’t want that.

Because who would? Who’d ever put themselves at risk for him? For him — a short-stack bundle of danger and trauma, with a mafia on his heels and kingdoms hating him left and right?

Andrew was a _prince_. He was worth a whole lot more than loving Neil ever will.

“Neil, you can’t leave,” Kevin said, pulling him out of his thought spiral. Neil’s eyes flicked to him; Kevin has put the scroll on the floor next to him and was leaning forward, intent in his eyes. “You’re the best herbalist in this kingdom.”

Neil snorted. “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?”

“I mean, technically _I’m_ better,” Kevin relented. “But I haven’t done the court-herbalist exam for this court yet. They do them only once a year, so I have to wait until next year to pass it.”

Neil sighed and shook his head. “You know both the princes, Kevin. You could just ask one of them to give you the job. You also know the head court-herbalist. Dan,” Neil clarified when Kevin gave him a funny look. “You can ask _her_ , too. Hell, _I_ could probably get you a job here.”

There was a brief pause. “In that case,” Kevin said, “you might not be the best herbalist in this kingdom for very long, but you’re still a very good herbalist. You can’t just leave the team behind.”

Neil hesitated. He pulled his legs up, knees pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, and perched his chin against them. “Dozens of my father’s associates are out there,” he said. “What happened last night will happen again, Kevin. You know that.”

Kevin clenched his jaw.

“I thought—“ Neil started, cutting himself off. He swallowed and tried again. “I thought taking care of Lola will make it all okay. But you weren’t there, Kevin. You didn’t see it. She almost killed him.”

“But he’s alive,” Kevin said.

“This time,” Neil bitterly said. “What happens next time, or the time after that? I have more enemies than I know of, and most of them wouldn’t mind killing a few royalties as they go at me.”

“Neil,” Kevin started. Neil looked away from him.

“I’m gonna take a nap,” he said, yawning. It wasn’t all fake. “So if you may, please get the fuck out of my room.”

“You’re blocking the door.”

Neil looked over his shoulder, then back at Kevin. “It didn’t stop you getting in, did it?”

Kevin opened his mouth to object, but promptly closed it, collecting himself up from the floor with a scowl. He shoved the scroll back in his pocket. “If you have any news about the wedding, tell me.”

“Probably won’t happen, but fine,” Neil dismissively said as Kevin turned his back to him and advanced toward the window. But before he climbed out of it, he gave Neil a meaningful look. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Neil gave him a small smile. “I appreciate it.”

And Kevin left. As soon as he did, Neil got up to his feet, closed and locked the window, and flopped onto his bed. He melted against the soft sheets, hugging with both arms the pillow his face was buried in.

He fell asleep almost instantly. When he slept, he dreamt of broken fantasies.

***

Neil woke up to rapid, angry knocking on his door.

He groaned, shifting to glance at the window. It was dark out. He turned narrow eyes back to the door, on which the knocking person didn’t stop knocking.

Then he buried his face in the pillow again. Sleep, take him away, pretty please.

It didn’t. It was kind of hard to fall back asleep with someone hammering the rhythm of hell into his very core of being. Cruel and relentless, is what it was. Neil groaned again, pulled the pillow from under his head and tried to block out the noise with it.

Which somehow made it even _louder_. Neil swore — that _did_ get muffled, because of course — and sat up. He threw the pillow back on the mattress and got up, his limbs screaming against leaving the soft, soft bed and the once-promise of sleep.

He walked up to the door and opened it, donning the flattest, most bitter look he could manage.

Only to find Andrew looking back at him.

“You look like a zombie,” Andrew said, no particular infliction to his voice.

Neil’s eyes narrowed even further. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s go.”

“Wait, wait,” Neil said, opening the door wider. Andrew gave him an inquiring look. “Just— what— where the hell have you been?”

“Spar with me,” Andrew said, as if Neil hasn’t asked anything at all. Neil was positively confused.

“You want me to spar with you?”

“Yes.”

Neil glanced behind him at the dark window, then looked back at Andrew. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“It is.”

“And you want me to spar with you?”

Andrew gave him a _look_. “I didn’t know your hearing got defective.”

“It didn’t,” Neil said, unable to stifle a yawn. “I’m just not getting it.”

“You, me, two swords and a training mat,” Andrew impatiently said. “I want you to spar with me.”

“Thought you wanted nothing.”

Andrew glowered at him, no doubt about three seconds from skipping the spar and stabbing Neil then and there. Neil sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll spar with you.”

He followed Andrew all the way to a secluded training room, big enough for only one pair to spar in. Andrew handed Neil a sheathed sword, put his his jacket aside all neatly, and walked over to the other end of the room.

Neil looked down at the sword in his hand, examining the inscriptions on the sheath. Royal inscriptions; property of the crown. He slowly drew the sword, a shining metal blinking back at him. Good quality. No, scratch that; it was the best sword Neil’s ever seen, apart from Andrew’s. It was dangerously sharp, barely used; its weight fit his hand, its blade just the right length. It felt as if it were made for him.

He flicked his eyes up to Andrew, who was calmly observing him.

“What are the rules?” Neil asked.

“Don’t die.”

Neil quirked an eyebrow. “And you?”

Andrew drew his sword, settling into a starting stance. “I’ll be fine.”

Neil moved his sword from hand to hand, before settling on his right and copying Andrew’s stance.

And they were on.

The circled each other for a few seconds, each watching the other with unwavering focus. Then Neil sprang forward with a jab; Andrew swiftly blocked it and moved to parry, but Neil blocked that, too. Their swords clashed a few consecutive times before Neil jumped back from a jab right at him, eyes widening and his breath hitching.

Andrew stepped back, and they both raised their swords again.

“You plan on leaving,” Andrew stated as they examined each other for openings. Neil scoffed.

“I can’t stay,” he said, springing forward. Andrew evaded his jab and moved his sword at Neil’s thigh, a move which Neil barely managed to block, feeling the clash of the swords vibrating in his teeth.

“I solved your problem,” Andrew said, jamming his sword forward. Neil stepped out of its way. “Lola’s dead. You’ve got nobody to run from.”

“She almost—“ Neil blocked another hit and jabbed forward, his sword tearing the fabric of Andrew’s sleeve. The blade barely nicked Andrew’sskin. “—killed you.”

“And look how the tables have turned,” Andrew said, stepping out of range again. He adjusted his hold on the hilt of his sword and looked right at Neil, his eyes sharp and alert. “I take it that you want to leave.”

Neil pulled back. “I don’t. But I can’t—“

“—put me in danger,” Andrew said, springing forward. Neil, unprepared, raised his sword in a flimsy attempt to block out Andrew’s attack, his arm getting in the way of Andrew’s sword. Neil stumbled back, hissing at the sting. Andrew cocked his head. “I can protect myself better than you can.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Neil said, the words turning into a snarl at the end. He settled back into a proper stance and raised the sword, ignoring the pain in his arm. He could feel the warmth of blood soaking his sleeve. “I’m not the type of person who lives very long. You don’t have to jump into the crossfire. You’d just end up getting hurt.”

Andrew didn’t give him room for air; he sprang forward again. “You’re optimistic.”

Neil blocked, gritting his teeth and steeling his feet in the mat under him. “I’m being realistic.”

Andrew broke the standoff and swung his sword at Neil’s side. Neil jumped out of the way, stumbling as he did, and almost didn’t see the hit Andrew raised at him; he barely managed to block it, his wrist twisting at the awkward angle it got caught in. He swallowed down another hiss and pushed Andrew’s sword away from his own, stepping back to try and get some room.

Andrew regarded him with a bored expression, lightly twisting his sword in his hand. “You’d get killed faster on your own.”

“It’s my problem,” Neil replied. He took in a deep breath and settled into position again. “Not yours.”

“You didn’t seem to think like that before,” Andrew said. “What was it you said? All our problems will conjoin?”

Neil’s face went bright red. “That was different.”

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t see a difference.”

Neil straightened. “You don’t see a difference between catching a squirrel and almost getting murdered by my former mafia ties?”

“A cat. And they were both your problems,” Andrew replied, jumping forward with a hit that might’ve gotten Neil in the side had he not darted away, internally cursing himself for lowering his guard. He was so fucking rusty.

“I think—“ he blocked a jab— “you get my—“ another jab— “fucking _point_.”

Andrew got him in the calf, the sword getting caught on his boot; Neil stumbled back, his ankle twisting under him from the sudden reaction. He swore as pain shot down his foot.

“Do you want to stay?” Andrew asked, stepping away. Neil looked to him, biting his lip.

“You know I do.”

“Then stay,” Andrew said. Neil sprang up, their swords clashing; with a swift movement, while Neil was distracted, Andrew kicked Neil’s legs from under him.

Neil fell back with a surprised huff, back hitting the mat. He moved to pull himself up, but promptly stopped, his breath getting caught in his chest.

Andrew was standing over him, the tip of his sword pointed at Neil’s throat. “I’ll keep you safe.”

They looked at each other. Neil, struggling to catch his breath; Andrew, steady and certain. His hold on the sword was unwavering; the look in his eyes intent. Neil found his head clearing of all thought — anything that wasn’t this moment, right now, right here, and this feeling that had his heart beating wildly.

Then he grabbed Andrew’s sword, ignoring the pain flaring in his palm as he pulled it out of Andrew’s hand. Surprise filled Andrew’s eyes for what Neil thought might been the first time since they’ve met; a simple kick at Andrew’s legs was enough to get him to lose his balance, and another swift maneuver and Neil was over Andrew, forearms braced on the mat at Andrew’s sides, both swords discarded where he’d been just a moment ago.

Andrew looked up at him, and Neil looked down at him, and Neil could feel the muscles in his face relaxing. “Yes or no?”

Andrew didn’t reply for a long moment. Then, he jammed an elbow into Neil’s stomach; while that tried to remember how to breathe, he pushed him off of him, pressed him down on the mattress, and leaned in.

“Yes,” he said, and kissed him.

Neil let all the tension in his body bleed out of him and kissed Andrew back, harsh and hungry. His hands were pinned in place by Andrew’s, so he couldn’t do anything with them, but he wasn’t complaining; instead, he closed his eyes, and gave himself in to the feeling of safety.

He wasn’t alone. Andrew was there with him.

***

It had taken Neil a while to realize that his dizziness wasn’t all Andrew’s fault, and that he was, in fact, slowly bleeding out onto the mat from his cuts.

It was very slow, but if they’d have never noticed, he could’ve _died_.

You know. Eventually.

Andrew helped him up and proceeded to usher him to his chambers, letting Neil claim the sofa while he worked on locking all the locks put on the doors. In the meantime, Neil stemmed the blood-flow from his arm, which sported the deepest gash, with a white table-cloth he’s found lying around.

Andrew stalked across the room and pulled a first-aid kit from his closet, before coming over to Neil and sitting next to him on the sofa.

“Where did you go?” Neil asked while Andrew was halfway through a row of stitches. Andrew flicked his eyes up to him, briefly, before proceeding to finish the row in silence.

Andrew had nothing he needed to take care of, because apparently, Neil has morphed into a horrible swordsman after years lacking practice. Who would’ve thought? So once Andrew finished taking care of Neil’s cuts, he took his sweet time putting the med-kit back in the closet.

Neil was sitting with his legs up on the sofa, his boots discarded somewhere in the room and a red apple in hand. He ate it in a record-time, tossing the core into a conveniently near trash-bin without bothering to as much as shift. He then looked up to Andrew, giving him a playful look.

Andrew took a deep breath, shoving his hand into his jacket’s pocket. He caught Neil’s gaze and held it; Neil’s playful look softened into something curious, searching for Andrew’s thought process.

Andrew’s thought process was currently on fire and set for future reconstruction, thank you very much. So he swallowed down his nerves, took one last deep breath and got down on one knee.

Neil’s playfulness vanished and he straightened, blinking. Andrew pulled the small box out of his pocket. He opened it, held it forward and looked up at Neil. “Neil Abram Josten,” he said, his voice only slightly clipped. “Will you marry me?”

Neil stared at him.

“I’m not doing this on a whim,” Andrew said, as if to clarify. “I know it started out as a…” he searched for a word. “A mistake. Because your friends are stupid.”

A small grin climbed up to Neil’s face, and he nodded gravely. Andrew cleared his throat, taking it as a sign to go on.

“But I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Ever since. About what it means. And today just proved to me that I want to marry you.”

Neil’s grin died down into something serious, startled at the sincerity in Andrew’s voice. Andrew inclined his head, not breaking his eye contact with Neil. “I want you to stay here. Or not here. I don’t care. I want you to stay in my life,” he said. “I don’t want to wake up one day and find out I’m never going to see you again.”

Neil inhaled sharply.

“You don’t have to,” Andrew continued. “If you don’t want to. You said you want to stay and I believe you. But I.” He halted. “I’ll protect you if someone comes, like I did yesterday. And if I can’t, I’ll die right along with you.”

He took another deep breath, slowly releasing it. “So, Neil Abram Josten. Yes or no? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Neil said. Andrew exhaled, dropped his head, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said, lifting his head back up to see Neil looking back in amusement. “Okay. Give me your hand. I need to get rid of this ring.”

Neil gleefully extended him his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter <3


	28. Chapter 28

Neil blinked awake to soft, early morning light hitting his face.

He sighed and shifted in the bed, reveling in the softness of the covers and the pillows. He felt at peace; comfy and safe, and, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t have a bundle of worries and anxieties contaminating his every breath.

He snuggled closer to Andrew, closing his eyes again. He felt something brushing against his hair, careful yet somehow absentminded.

“You awake?” he mumbled. Andrew hummed in response.

“Go back to sleep,” Andrew told him, his voice barely audible. Between the soothing motions of Andrew’s fingers in Neil’s hair and the softest bed in the world, Neil found himself complying.

The next time he opened his eyes, the lights in the room were brighter and sharper, no longer indicating an early hour. Neil was alone in the bed. He turned, yawned, and lazily stretched. The motion accidentally knocked a pillow off the edge, his hand bumping into something else.

Neil turned to check what it was.

Apparently, he wasn’t as alone in the bed as he’s first thought.

“Hello there,” he quietly cooed, picking King Fluffkins up. The cat meowled, although more to express a principal discontent rather than a will to burn Neil’s skin off his bones, as King’s usual meows did. The cat didn’t resist when Neil pulled himself slightly up and put him in his lap.

Neil thought that was that. Alas, he quickly felt something boring into his side. He lifted the covers to see Sir nestled there, clawing at Neil’s side.

“C’mere,” Neil told him. Sir didn’t need much more prompting; he weaseled out from under the covers and flopped himself against Neil’s chest, half his body outstretched on him, one paw almost touching King. King blinked at Sir, snarled quietly, and closed his eyes again.

Before Neil knew it, both the cats were asleep on him. He’d have gone back to sleep then and there right along with them; but then, right when he got comfortable, he felt the sudden need to pee.

“Oh, fuck,” Neil said, glancing down at the sleeping cats. There was no way for him to move and not wake them up. Fuck, he should’ve thought of that. Damn Andrew and him eliminating all of Neil’s common sense defenses.

His eyes scoured the chambers in search of Andrew, but he had no such luck. Andrew was nowhere to be seen. Neil had no choice but to wait until one of two things happened: either the cats woke up and got off of him of their own accord, which Neil was positive was never going to happen — or Andrew came and saved him from this corner he’s oh-so-gracefully ushered himself into.

Until then, though, Neil had no choice but to deal with the consequences of his actions. He might die here, he knew. But it was okay. Now that Neil has known true happiness, it was okay.

His acceptance and resolve lasted about five minutes. He laid there in bed, leaning against the cushion and the bed frame, and looked down at the peacefully sleeping cats. Why did he think getting cats was a good idea? When has any of his ideas been good ideas? He should’ve known it was going to end like this.

He saw a brief glimpse of messy blond hair passing by one of the chamber’s inner doors. He almost called out to him — but then he realized that if he did that, the cats would wake up. So he swore internally and did nothing. Nothing at all.

Then, some eternity or so of suffering later, Andrew walked into the room. Hope lit Neil’s face like a Christmas tree; Andrew halted at the sight, brow slightly furrowing.

“Andrew!” Neil whispered-yelled. “Help me!”

Andrew’s gaze found the cats sprawled on top of Neil, and the confusion in his face cleared into faint amusement.

“Andrew,” Neil hissed. “I have to pee. I’m literally going to die.”

Andrew sat down on the arm of a nearby couch. “Nothing’s stopping you.”

“Nothing’s—“ Neil couldn’t help the incredulity that crept into his voice. “Do you like seeing me suffer?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Help me!”

Andrew watched him at length, while Neil tried to school his features into the most imploring, effective expression he could get them into. He had to find a way into Andrew’s good graces. There had to be something that would make him help Neil not Die or Die by Cats.

He said the first thing that’s come into his mind. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

Andrew quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

It was working — holy shit, it was working— “Oh, yes. I’ll make you the best breakfast you’ve ever had in your _life_.”

“Didn’t know you knew how to cook.”

He didn’t. “I’ve been cooking my whole life. All that time on the run?” — preserved foods and lots and lots of edible plants. “—I’ve been making my own gourmet meals ever since I was eleven.” He’s never cooked a meal in his life. He didn’t even know how to operate an oven. “How do you think I grew up so pretty?”

This seemed to convince Andrew, because that pulled himself off the arm of the couch and approached the bed. Ever so carefully, he transported Sir onto the vacant space next to Neil. Then he reached out and did the same with King.

Neil was off the bed in lightning-speed. Then he abruptly stopped and turned to Andrew.

Andrew pointed toward the bathroom, and Neil was off.

***

Now that Neil was no longer dying, he was starting to think he has made a mistake.

He stood in the middle of Andrew’s private kitchen, having not the single clue how the fuck he was going to make him breakfast.

Neil knew the basics of cooking: how to open a tin can with no tools, how to boil water for tea, how to recognize whether the plants in the forest were nutritional yummies or deathly poisons. But that was as far as his knowledge went.

Somehow, he didn’t think Andrew was going to appreciate that kind of meal. So he had no choice but to improvise. And everybody knew that improvisation started with what one _did_ know.

Neil picked up a few eggs from a basket, a carton of milk and an assortment of cooking herbs he’s found lying around, as well as various things he’s gathered along the way, scouring Andrew’s kitchen for clues.

Halfway through Neil’s process, Andrew came into the kitchen. Neil instantly banished him in disguise of professionalism, when in fact, he couldn’t let Andrew see what he was doing, lest that will forever refuse to put his trust in him again.

Andrew only came in again five minutes later. “I’m hungry.”

“If you stopped interrupting me, maybe I’ll be done at some point,” Neil berated him, gesturing at him with a spatula. Andrew ignored him and picked up an apple from a basket, meticulously examining it.

“What are you making?”

“It’s a surprise,” Neil said, doing his best to hide the stove with his body. “A secret family recipe.”

Andrew bit into the apple. “That same family that tried to kill you?”

“No, my adoptive family from Switzerland,” Neil said. “ _Yes,_ my family who’s tried to kill me. Believe it or not, I had a mother as well as a father.”

“The same mother who forced you to live on the run for four years?”

“She taught me to cook.”

She didn’t. But it was also not a family recipe, because a family like the Wesninski’s didn’t have those, so Neil figured the double lie canceled itself out. Which meant that technically, he was speaking the truth.

“Smells like eggs,” Andrew said, trying to peek over Neil’s shoulder. Neil stretched to hide it, and caught Andrew’s gaze.

“Yes or no,” Neil said. “I’ll kiss you, and in exchange, you’ll get out of my kitchen.”

“It’s my kitchen.”

“Nah-ah,” Neil said. “I’m making breakfast, so it’s mine now. Do you want a kiss or not?”

Andrew seemed to mull it over. “Yes. But only if you’re going to make that breakfast in the foreseeable future.”

“You don’t rush artists,” Neil said, and leaned in. He kissed Andrew.

He stopped when he faintly smelt something burning. “Ok, now, let me make art in peace.”

Andrew took the apple with him when he left, saluting him before he disappeared.

Neil let out a sigh and whirled around to the stove, instantly feeling his heart sinking in his chest. “No-no-no, don’t fucking—“

It was a miracle that he managed to salve it.

***

Neil brought two plates to the small dining table standing outside of the kitchen. He laid the better-looking one in front of Andrew, who was just finishing a cigarette. The stench of it hung heavy in the air, but Andrew looked relaxed, so Neil wasn’t complaining.

At least, he looked relaxed up until the moment he saw his breakfast. When he did, his face twisted. “The fuck is this?”

Neil sheepishly took his place in front of him, laying his own smily eggs and health-salad à-la-Kevin-Day in front of him. “It’s art.”

Andrew poked a piece of lettuce with his fork. He sat there for a few minutes in complete silence, staring at his meal, before he looked up at the expectant Neil.

“This is your family receipt,” he flatly asked.

Neil vehemently nodded.

“This is what you’ve spent an hour and a half making.”

Well, technically _, semantically_ , this attempt has taken him around twenty minutes — but he wasn’t exactly a chef, was he? Cut him some slack. He poured his heart and soul into that smily egg-face. “If you want to know, the secret ingredient is a lot of love and appreciation.”

Andrew blinked at him. “Love and appreciation.”

Neil vehemently nodded.

“Did you at least salt it?”

A minuscule frown furrowed his brow. “You’re supposed to salt it?”

Andrew pushed his chair back and stood up, picking up the plate.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“This is unsalted and clearly overcooked,” Andrew said. “Not to mention that salad out of hell you’ve made. Just looking at it gives me chills. I’m making us breakfast.”

“But—“ Neil faltered. “But my breakfast! My love-and-appriciation-filled breakfast!”

“Remind me not to let you in the kitchen without supervision again,” Andrew said, picking up Neil’s plate and turning around. “It’ll be ready in half an hour.”

Neil sat there and sulked in silence. He lost his resolve after fifteen minutes, when he realized that maybe what's happened was for the best. He outright internally blessed Andrew for acting as he had after thirty, when that had brought out two plates stacked with the most delicious-looking pancakes Neil’s ever seen in his life. They smelt amazing; Andrew’s pancakes were drizzled with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, whereas Neil’s were piled upon with fresh blueberries and sliced bananas.

Neil could feel his mouth watering. What the _hell_. Andrew didn’t have the right to make something that looked _this_ appetizing.

Andrew set Neil’s plate in front of him, before sitting down and digging into his own plate without further ado.

They ate in silence. Neil was in seventh heaven; he’s never eaten something like this.

“Andrew, this is _amazing_ ,” Neil said halfway through his pancakes, sinking into their fluffiness and perfect texture. The blueberries and bananas were some of the best quality he’s gotten to try, and he would know. “Where did you learn to make this?”

Andrew shrugged. “Picked it up somewhere.”

Neil gave him a flat look. “You just randomly gained the ability to make the most heavenly pancakes in existence?”

Andrew’s ears reddened slightly. “I took a class.”

Neil halted, a somewhat haphazard smile claiming his lips. “Really?”

Andrew shrugged again. “I thought it might be useful, in the long run. In case I ever,“ he hesitated. “Left.”

Neil eyebrows shot up. “You wanted to leave the castle? Why?”

“It was a long time ago,” Andrew said. “I’m over it.”

“Did something happen?”

“There were—“ Andrew cut himself off, and a few moments passed before he continued. “There were a few people who didn’t know what boundaries were. But they were taken care of before anything really happened.”

Neil’s expression turned serious. “But they didn’t do anything.”

“No,” Andrew said. “Like I said. They were taken care of.”

Neil observed Andrew for a few long moments. Andrew looked back, nothing concealing away behind his eyes; Neil didn’t think he was keeping anything from him. “We could leave, if you wanted to.”

“And go where?”

Neil shrugged. “Into town.”

“I can’t live in the town,” Andrew said. “I’m royalty. I’d be assassinated in my sleep.”

“I think you’re more likely to be assassinated _here_ , if I’m being honest.”

“That’s just because you and your murder-magnet are here with me,” Andrew dismissively said. “It won’t go away if we leave.”

Neil gave him an unappreciative look. “Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome. Finish your pancakes.”

Neil looked after him as that stood up. “Where are you going?”

“Out for a smoke,” Andrew replied. “I’ll be back.”

Andrew turned to leave. But before he was out of Neil’s line of sight, he turned back to him. “Did you like the pancakes?”

Neil smiled brightly. “I loved them.”

Andrew nodded, seemingly satisfied. And then he grabbed his jacket and left his chambers.

Neil happily finished his pancakes.

***

_Later That Day, at the Clarinesian Royal Pharmacy_

Neil methodically crushed the herbs, grinding them into a smooth, yacky-looking green mush of medicine. He’s been working nonstop for who knew how long — attending to greenhouses, running errands, and, currently, making medicine.

He was completely focused on the task at hand. Dan’s relayed to them an order from a neighboring kingdom, whose herbs and medicine department lacked in herbs and medicine, and so it had people dying left and right. So Neil sat down and tried to see how many medicine-making records he could break before the order was due.

He was somewhere around three, he was pretty sure.

He set the new batch of medicine aside and reached out across the table for a new packet of plants, pouring them out on the table to start sorting through them. And that was when he suddenly noticed that nobody expect him was working.

He stopped his sorting and looked up with a frown on his face. Looking back at him were the rest of the medical team, belatedly looking away. All except Allison, who kept staring unapologetically.

Neil glanced behind him before landing his attention back on her. “Why are you guys staring at me like that?”

“We’re not staring,” said Allison, continuing to stare. Matt started humming an obnoxious tune while working. A glance at his table showed Neil that now was probably the first time he’s touched the plants assorted to him.

He looked to Dan’s table and saw her meticulously sorting through papers. A look at Nicky’s table showed him ineffectively doing his own herbal duties, failing for the fact that he kept looking up at Neil every five seconds, looking away every time their eyes met.Renee politely kept working at her table, only a little bit of awkwardness in her movement.

Even Kevin was participating. He was sorting a packet of plants, much like Neil’s packet, into the wrong categories.

“Okay,” Neil said, and everybody’s eyes snapped up to him. “What’s the deal? Who’s dead?”

There was a tense silence.

“Soooo, Neil,” Nicky airily said, breaking it. “You into jewelry now?”

Neil frowned at him. “Why would you think that?”

Allison leaned forward, her eyes boring into Neil’s. “Are we your best friends, Neil?”

Neil’s frown deepened. “…Yes. Why?”

“I think you’ve forgotten to tell us something,” Dan piped in. Neil’s puzzled eyes turned to her, and she shrugged.

“Unless it’s not really,” said Matt.

“He told me it was off,” added Kevin.

“But maybe—“

“—And Andrew’s unpredictable—“

“And they’ve only just gotten back, too.”

It suddenly hit Neil what they were talking about. He looked down at his hand, glimpsing the simple, smooth ring decorating his ring finger.

He discreetly pulled his hand under the table, his face lighting up red. “I kinda forgot to tell you guys something important.”

They fell quiet, expectant expressions lighting up their features.

“Go on,” Allison prompted, when she felt Neil wasn’t going to continue on his own.

“Andrew proposed to me.”

There was a gasp and a sudden, loud shattering sound. Everybody turned startled eyes back to where Nicky was standing, clutching his table, mouth widely agape and the pieces of what had once been a ceramic vase littering the floor around him. “Andrew _proposed_?”

Neil scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah. Last night.”

“Did he really?” Dan excitedly asked. “A proper proposal? With a speech and getting down on one knee and everything?”

The redness of Neil’s face deepened as he recalled Andrew’s promise to him. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Allison breathed out, her face white. “Oh my God. Neil!” Neil startled at at the sudden pitch of her voice. “You should’ve told me _right_ away! I’m your best friend! How could you have kept this from me!”

“Excuse me,” said Kevin and Matt simultaneously, both turning to glare at each other. Neil buried his face in his hands.

“Guys, you’re overreacting,” he said, his voice muffled. “You already knew we were going to get married. You’ve been _planning_ it.”

“Kevin told us it was off,” said Nicky, a bitter edge to his voice.

“That's what he told _me_!” Kevin exclaimed. “I didn’t make that up!”

“I bet Kevin knew and was just trying to throw us off,” Allison conspiringly suggested.

Kevin gasped. “How could you _say_ something like that!”

“He didn’t know,” Neil interjected. “It only happened last night.”

“I visited you last night, though.”

“Later last night.”

“How much later?” Allison said, wriggling her eyebrows. Neil let out a short sigh.

“Later.”

“I’m not getting anything from that,” said Dan.

“Congratulations, Neil,” Renee said, giving him a bright smile.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Neil replied. That was how people usually reacted to hearing someone was getting married, wasn’t it? At least one of them had sense in them.

His expression suddenly fell. “You already knew, didn’t you.”

Renee shrugged serenely and kept working on her herbs. Dan and Allison turned betrayed eyes to her, both opening their mouths to no doubt drown the poor girl in disbelieving inquiries.

“So, Neil,” Matt said, elbowing him. “When’s the wedding?”

Neil bit his lips. “We haven’t talked about that yet.”

“We can keep the original date,” Allison called out from across the room. “Everything’s already settled! The only thing that’s left is for you two to actually get married.”

“ _Everything’s_ settled?” Neil repeated. Allison nodded, smiling brightly. “We even have an orchestra and a ballroom and flower arrangements. No pigeons, though. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, really,” Neil blandly said. “When was the original date?”

The room’s occupants gave him funny looks.

“You don’t know the date of your own wedding?” Nicky wryly asked.

“I’ve been busy,” Neil replied in that same tone. “Fearing for my life and all."

“It’s okay, we forgive you,” Kevin reassured him.

“Thank you,” Neil sarcastically replied. “So when is it?”

“Two weeks from today,” Allison said. She had a clipboard out and was examining it. “Yeah, everything’s already settled. You’ve even got the suit. And now a ring, too! It’s perfect!” She squealed excitedly. “I can’t _wait_!”

Neil couldn’t help the smile that found his face. He put a hand over his mouth, cheeks and neck burning. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a _very_ big deal,” Matt told him. “You deserve to be happy, buddy.”

Neil inclined his head, hiding his face in his hands.

It was Renee who saved him. “Let’s get back to work,” she said. “Before we chase Neil out of here.”

“Yeah, we won’t meet the deadline without him,” Kevin helpfully added. Everybody save Neil glared at him, and he defensively shrugged. “What? I’m just saying what’s true. If any of you guys had his output rate—“

“We get it, Mom,” Allison cut in. Then she turned her look to Neil. “After we’re done here, you’re telling me _everything_.”

“It’s not that—“

Several voice reprovingly spoke up. “Neil!”

He lifted his hands in surrender and went back to crushing herbs. “Fine, fine. I yield.”

They all went back to their work, the air of a holiday about the pharmacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading <3


	29. Chapter 29

Matt, Dan and Nicky looked bemusedly as Neil did his best to execute Kevin’s idea for a plant-themed wedding, and Andrew tried his best to prevent it at all costs. That was, they stared as Neil went from window to window, hanging rosemary flowers on them, and as Andrew, right behind him, put a match to every rosemary flower Neil put up.

“It’s like they planned it,” Nicky hollowly said as the to-be-married pair obliviously continued their strange dance. “This place is going to come down on us.”

“Should we stop them?” asked Matt.

“I think it would be best for us not to get involved,” said Dan.

“Does this hall have fire insurance?” Matt asked Nicky. Nicky looked around in consideration, putting a hand to his chin à-la-thinking-man.

“You know, I’m really not sure,” said Nicky. “Seeing as it’s technically not a part of the castle.”

“But it belongs to the royal family, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not sure about that, either.”

Matt frowned. “Who does it belong to, then?”

“Maybe Andrew knows,” Nicky said.

“It doesn’t belong to _Andrew_ , does it?” Dan dubiously said. “Does he even have any assets?”

Nicky took a long moment to think about it. “You know, I’m really not sure.”

A voice rising interrupted their conversation, and they all turned their attentions to none other than the men of the hour. Neil was standing next to a calmly burning, no-longer-flowering rosemary leaf, ranting while waving at Andrew with a bundle of plants; Andrew impassively looked at him, seeming unimpressed. Every now and then he said something that accelerated Neil’s ranting.

They watched with interest as Andrew opened the window next to them. Neil turned to him, ranting ever faster, his rosemary-waving turning more and more expressive. Then, in one swift motion, Andrew plucked the rosemary out of Neil’s hand and yeeted it out of the window.

“He really put his shoulders into that thrust,” Nicky appreciatively said.

“I think Neil’s in shock,” Dan added, observing as Neil stared unblinkingly at Andrew. Andrew remarked something at him and slammed the window shut, shoved his hands into his pockets, and promptly stalked out of the hall.

They looked at Neil in concern as that stared into the place Andrew’s disappeared off to, and then broke into a run after him.

A voice from behind them startled all three of them. “Are you going to stand there until the whole place’s turned to ashes?” Allison berated. “We don’t have insurance.”

“Who told you that?” Matt asked, swirling around. Allison stared at him incomprehensibly, at which he smiled apologetically. “You know, I’ll just ask Aaron or something.”

“Fire!” Allison said, making shooing motions toward the window slowly catching fire. “I’ve got a wedding to set up!”

“We’re helping,” Dan objected. Allison glared at her. “…by putting out the fire.”

And put up the fire they did. Thankfully, it didn’t hinder their meticulous organizing.

***

“I’m just saying, what do you have against rosemary?”

Andrew kicked a pebble. “It looks like it belongs on a plate, for one.”

“It does, but that’s beside the point,” said Neil. He stopped and sat down on a nearby bench, pulling his legs up into a cross-legged position and looking at Andrew with raised eyebrows. “I don’t want the wedding to look boring.”

“You could paint all the walls black. That’s bound to make it exciting.”

“And then everyone will think they’re attending a funeral,” Neil dryly said. “No thanks.”

“Why’s it so important to you?”

Neil chewed on the inside of his cheek. “We’ve got something special, right? I want the wedding to represent that.”

“And you thought _rosemary’s_ going to do the trick?”

Neil suddenly perked, back straightening. “I know what we need to do!”

Andrew stared at him, which translated into, _go on_.

“When I was little,” Neil said, “there was this super-rare, super-special kind of flower that grew up around that one mansion. Remember the place we met?”

“I seem to vaguely recall it.”

“So it grew in _massive_ amounts around there,” Neil excitedly said. “It’s what got me into herbs and botany in the first place. It’s beautiful, really. I didn’t pay any attention to the flowers last time I was there,” he admitted, “running for my freedom and all. But it might still be there. We could use it for decoration, at least at the altar.”

“What’s this flower called?” Andrew asked, sitting down on the bench next to Neil.

“Middlemist Red,” Neil said. “It was my mother’s favorite.”

Andrew paused. Then, he said, “the wedding’s in less than a week.”

“We’ll easily make it if we set out today.”

“Okay.”

Neil’s eyes filled with warmth. “Yeah?”

Andrew nodded. “We’ll get your Middlemist Reds. As long as you promise to drop the rosemary and cacti thing.”

“It’s not my fault Kevin misplaced the cacti,” Neil pouted.

“The cook resigned her position because of it,” Andrew said, leaning close enough to Neil that he felt more than heard the words. Neil shifted slightly so that he was facing him, one leg dangling off the bench, the other bent against the back of it. “I liked her food.”

“You like everyone’s food,” Neil told him. “Except mine, for some reason.”

“It’s because you grew up in a forest.”

Neil’s pout deepened. “I did _not_.”

“Oh?” Andrew’s eyebrows rose. “I thought that’s why you’re so ill-mannered.”

Neil leveled a look into the deep hazel of Andrew’s eyes. “That’s because _you_ grew up as a posh bastard.”

“Possible,” said Andrew. “Yes or no?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, and kissed him. Andrew’s hands found his hair, and Neil had to lean a hand against the bench to not lose his balance and tumble off of it. Between breaths he said, “I could make you dinner to make up for the cook thing.”

“No,” Andrew said and kissed him again, not letting him respond. Neil wasn’t complaining. He sank into the kiss, and bit into Andrew’s lips, and let all his worries disappear into the wind.

He was getting married this week. He was giddy to know there was going to be a lot, lot more of this.

***

It was late afternoon, somewhere near twilight, when they saw the mansion Neil’s talked about. The horses trotted up to it, their riders not urging them to hurry; in the golden light of the in-between, the old and decaying building looked like something out of an ancient fairytale. Wild grass grew up to half-calf hight around it, vines climbing up the fence surrounding it.

Neil and Andrew both came off of their horses. Neil brushed his white shirt clean of imaginary specks of dust. “We’re here.”

“I didn’t notice.”

Neil gave him a dry glance, adjusted the way his shirt was tucked into his pants, and ran up to the fence. In one sweep motion he was up and over it, boots landing on the ground with a quiet _thump_.

He turned around with a smug look on his face and saw Andrew looking back from the other side of the fence. “Come over, Juliet.”

“You’re Juliet in this equation,” Andrew said, sizing up the fence. It wasn’t a very tall fence; but Andrew wasn’t a very tall person, either. Neil, being oh so very taller than Andrew, figured there was no way for him to really understand Andrew’s struggles.

“I’m manly,” he objected instead. Andrew raised an eyebrow at him. He then started going left along the fence, much to Neil’s confusion. “Where are you going?”

Andrew came to a fancy-looking, adorned, rusty gate and pulled it open, stepping into the mansion’s premises without further flare. Neil bit his lips and nodded. “I knew it was there.”

“Sure you did, Juliet.” Andrew came to a stop in front of him and looked to the sides. “I don’t see any red flowers here.”

“There used to be bushes at the other side of the mansion,” Neil said, looking over his shoulder. “We could go around it and check if there are any along the way, too.”

That they did. When they reached the other side, however, they didn’t see any red flowers — much less those of the Middlemist variety.

Neil frowned, walking along the mansion’s wall. The ground beneath him was wild and ridden with grass, holding no flowers other than faded yellow Sinapis’. “They used to grow around here,” he said, gesturing around him. “In the dozens.”

“They must’ve been taken down,” said Andrew.

“Or died out.” Neil looked at the ground around him, a sad tinge to his eyes. “Nobody ever took care of this place, not really. Except for me, I mean. But I stopped when we ran.”

“You used to come here?”

“Oh yeah, all the time,” Neil said, meeting Andrew’s eyes and smiling faintly. “The flowers were better company than what I had at home.”

Andrew crouched and picked a Sinapis flower. “We could keep looking elsewhere.”

“Don’t know where else we could find them,” Neil said with a sigh. Andrew got up and handed him the yellow flower, which Neil took and attached to his belt. “I’ve never seen them anywhere but here.”

“We could go inside,” Andrew suggested.

“And do what?”

Andrew shrugged. “Explore.”

“We’ve both been here before,” Neil said. “We met here.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

“We could find an apple basket, and then it would _really_ be like old times.”

“We could even poison them, and I’ll watch as you eat them and slowly die,” Andrew replied. “I bet that’ll be fun.”

Neil gave him a flat look. Then his eyes fixated on something, the reprove fading into a slight frown; Andrew turned and saw what’s caught Neil’s attention. “That’s the one?”

“Yeah,” Neil said. He approached it and crouched before it, gently brushing his fingers against the many red, pointy petals of the Middlemist Red flower. There was only the one in the bush; only one they could see in the whole area. Its redness stood out against the green of the grass and the white of the mansion’s walls.

Andrew came to a stop over Neil, looking at his red mop of hair rather than at the flower. “You want to take it back?”

Neil hummed in consideration, then faintly shook his head. “It’s the last of its kind.”

“There might be others,” Andrew said.

“And there might not be,” Neil replied.

Andrew dropped into a cross-legged position next to him, the sheathed sword perched in his lap. “We should go back.”

“Or we could stay for a while.” Neil fell quiet for a long moment, looking at the flower. “Say goodbye.”

“To what?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But it feels like something I should be doing, don’t you think?”

Andrew studied him. “We could go back at sunrise.”

Neil turned surprised eyes to him. “What about everyone at the castle?”

Andrew looked at him inquiringly.

“They’ll think we’ve been kidnapped again,” Neil said. “We didn’t tell anyone where we’re going.”

“They’re busy with the wedding,” Andrew dismissively said. “Nobody will notice us not being there.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. It’s _our_ wedding.”

“Have you ever organized a wedding, Junkie?”

Neil narrowed his eyes.

Andrew didn’t seem surprised. “Trust me, they won’t notice.”

“If you say so,” Neil said. “I hope you don’t mind beds ridden with bugs.”

Andrew leveled him an even look, at which Neil swallowed a smile.

***

Neil lied that night on a bare bed, clothes still on and his eyes open. Andrew was off wandering somewhere; he, himself, couldn’t find himself falling asleep.

There was familiarity in here. Neil used to despise it, in the same way he’d disliked his entire life; it was an escape but never a solution, only ever a temporary thing to occupy his time. He’d been a kid, and he’d been alone, and he used to come here to pretend he was someone he was not.

The flowers were no longer here. Neil guessed he should’ve predicted that; a long time has passed, and nature never stayed the same way for very long. Neil liked that about nature. Pick a flower, and next spring, there’ll be another one. Sometimes.

Sometimes flowers went extinct. Sometimes, comforts disappeared. He thought about what his mother might’ve said about him getting married; it would probably be something admonishing. Maybe she’d yell it. Grab him by the arm and dye his hair and change his name and make sure he’d never see Andrew again.

He hated her. Hated her in the same way he hated this place. And he missed her; despite himself, despite the side of him telling him she probably would’ve been disappointed, he found that he’d have wanted her to see him now.

He’d have wanted her to be proud of what he’s become.

But she wouldn’t have been, he knew that. He did everything she’d have never wanted him to do: settled down, found a love, found a place to belong. He’d only ever belonged with the flowers and the birds, knew only the wind in his hair as he ran far, far away, from any and every place.

Maybe one day he’d be able to accept it. Deep down, in the rhythm of his heart, a little piece of him would always want to follow her orders; to make her proud. But that life was a death sentence. And Andrew was anything but.

The door creaked open, and the bed next to him heavied down. “You’re still awake.”

Neil turned his eyes from the ceiling, falling on the dark silhouette that was Andrew. “Did you find anything?”

“Haven’t been looking,” said that. Neil fell quiet, thinking.

“Have you ever felt like a shadow of yourself?”

Andrew lied down on his back and closed his eyes. “From time to time.”

“How do you deal with that?”

Andrew was quiet for long enough that Neil thought he’s fallen asleep. But then he said, “I go to sleep. If I wake up, then it means I’m still here.”

Neil shifted, watching Andrew. Without opening his eyes, Andrew said, “go to sleep, Neil.”

So he did.

***

Neil woke up to bright light dazzling his eyes. He groaned and shifted, throwing an arm over his face to block it.

Then something hit him in the face. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at a jacket.

“Get up,” came Andrew’s curt voice. “We’re going back.”

Neil pulled down the jacket and squinted at Andrew, who was now hazy with too much light. That was the disadvantage of old, abandoned mansions: they had no curtains. “Andrew?”

Andrew was strapping his sword-sheathe to his belt, then ran his hands through his hair. “Get up, Junkie.”

Neil looked down at the jacket that’s been thrown on him. “Why’d you give me your jacket?”

“A moth ate a hole through it,” Andrew said. “It’s no longer presentable.”

Neil narrowed his eyes at him. “Do I look like a trashcan to you?”

Andrew made a so-so gesture with his head, then sat down at the edge of the bed to pull his boots on. Neil threw the jacket at him with as much force as he could muster, which almost sent Andrew tumbling forward. Andrew didn’t otherwise react; only continued lacing his boots, his jacket now draped across his shoulder.

Neil pulled himself into a sitting position and yawned. “I’m hungry.”

Andrew glanced at him. “I didn’t bring food for an overnight.”

“You know what that means,” Neil said, smiling cunningly. Andrew’s expression flattened.

“No.”

“Yes,” Neil said, newfound energy coursing through his veins. This was his time to shine. “I’m making us breakfast.”

Andrew groaned. “I’d rather starve.”

“You’re overreacting,” Neil said with a scowl. “Survival food’s my specialty. Unless you’d prefer to ride back to castle without eating anything beforehand.”

“I just told you I’d rather starve.”

“Well then, you’re more than welcome to,” Neil said, pulling his boots on. “I’m going to find food for my own humble self.”

Andrew gave him a weary look, but followed when Neil marched out of the room. They made their way downstairs and past the lobby; Neil was about to move on and outside, when something he saw registered and he stopped dead in his place.

He retracted his steps and came into a halt in the middle of the lobby, staring at the table that stood at the center of it. On it was a woven basket, a plaid cloth covering its contents.

“This yours?” Andrew asked him.

“What d’you think?”

“Considering this isn’t the first time,” Andrew said, “it’s a possibility.”

“This is a coincidence,” Neil said. He debated approaching the basket for five whole seconds before curiosity beat him, and he walked up to it. “It has to be.”

“There’s no such thing,” said Andrew. They both stood by the table and stared at the basket, until Neil finally caved and pulled off the cloth.

The basket was empty.

“Okay, now I’m a little scared,” Neil said, eyes narrowing. “You think it means something?”

“It must mean death is approaching,” Andrew said. Neil turned bewildered eyes to him, only to be met with a perfectly calm expression.

Neil’s bewilderment morphed into a scowl. “You’re very funny.”

“I try.”

They turned their attentions back to the empty basket.

“Should we take it?” Neil asked.

“Sure, if you need a basket.”

“Why would I need a basket?”

Andrew looked at him. “You’re the one who suggested we take it.”

“I didn’t suggest, I was just asking.”

“And implying that we might need to take the basket, which is really the same as suggesting we take it.”

“Oh, forget it,” Neil said and turned away, stalking up to the entrance. “I’m done with creepy signs of fate. Let’s go back home, before something else happens and we never make it back.”

“You’re optimistic,” Andrew said, following him outside. The sun assaulted them with her bright and happy light; Neil squinted against it, looking for their horses. Luckily, they were eating grass right outside the gate, calm enough to let an innocent passerby believe all in the world was right.

They rode back to the castle without having any breakfast. Maybe it was for the best; rumor had it, things around here could be poisoned.

***

Neil couldn’t believe it. Andrew had been right — nobody’s even noticed they’d left.

“Oh, Neil,” Allison said, hurriedly approaching him. “I need you to sign this.”

Neil frowned down at the papers she was shoving into his hands. “What’s this?”

“Insurance,” she said. “In case things go wrong. Andrew didn’t want to sign it, so you’re the one responsible.”

Neil’s frown deepened. “I don’t own this place.”

“Nobody does,” she said. “Just sign it.”

He did.

He spent the whole day after he and Andrew came back helping with setting up the wedding. He found and burned a Riko cardboard cut-out that’s been lying around; dragged around chairs; helped Katelyn arrange flowers. A melancholy bit at him when he did that, thinking back to the Middlemists he couldn’t find. But he didn’t dwell on that.

Before he knew it they were shutting off the lights and going back to each their rooms. Neil was yawning all the way back; as soon as he found his room he plunged onto his bed, asleep within minutes.

He was awakened some time later by somebody saying his name.

He turned and squinted up at a face, darkness coming in from outside. “Andrew?” He mumbled. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I want to show you something,” Andrew quietly said.

Neil yawned, grabbing his pillow. “Can’t it wait?”

“No.”

Neil pulled himself out of bed, abandoning the pillow, and followed Andrew. They left the castle, and to his surprise, he quickly realized they were going to the place they were going to get married at.

“Are you breaking into… yes, you are.”

Andrew shoved open the doors, and he and Neil stepped inside.

Neil took a second to register what he was seeing; and when he did, his heart skipped a few beats.

The lights in the hall were off, but it was washed over with soft light. It was a familiar light; a kind that he’s seen before, quite a while ago, when Andrew had taken him into his secret garden.

There were flowers and plants packed into every nook and cranny of this place — adorning the windows, decorating the aisle, beautifully arranged across the stage and around the altar. They burned reds and pinks and oranges; warm lights, welcoming, definitive. There were so many of them.

Neil’s hand went to his mouth, wide eyes reflecting the hundreds sources of light. “Andrew, this is beautiful.”

“It ought to make it special enough,” Andrew said. Neil turned to see him leaning against the entrance, his shoulders slightly tense.

“You did this,” Neil said. Andrew nodded. Neil looked back to the flowers and the plants, and in his heart, thanked whomever it was that took away the flowers they’d set out to find. “It’s better than anything I could’ve ever asked for.”

“Yes or no, Junkie,” Andrew said, and Neil turned again to see him holding out a hand. “To a dance.”

Neil grinned, and took his hand. “Yes.”

They fell into slow step, familiar with each other’s movements for it to be calm and easy. Neil found himself smiling, his heart racing, his cheeks heating; they danced and they went on to other places, nothing but silent music and soft lights and the familiar feeling of a touch guiding them through the night.

By the time the sun was rising and the plants’ lights were fading, they were sitting at the foot of the alter’s stage, backs pressed to it and legs outstretched.

“Thank you,” Neil said. Andrew glanced at him and inclined his head.

Neil knew his place. It was right here, with Andrew sitting next to him, and the beat of a dance pulsing through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of sleeping in this chapter. I'm tired :')
> 
> Thank you for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
